To Lose My Life
by MooseOnARoof
Summary: House and Wilson's friendship is tested when Wilson is attacked and struggles to recover in the aftermath. Hurt/Comfort fic. Rated M for theme and violence! Read and enjoy. Chapter 11 UP!
1. Chapter 1

_Holy moly. I've been away for sooo long. Just finished the last year of my degree hence the huge amounts of work and job hunting that have been taking up my precious time. _

_Anyway, I was going to update Blood Ties but I have lost chapters 3 and 4 so I will have to write them again!! :-( In the meantime I give you this....another multi chapter fic. _

_Oh yeah- I don't own stuffs_

_A/N It was a regular evening of beer and TV between two friends. But a few hours later that would all change. H/W friendship, hurt, comfort and all that. Rated M for themes and violence_

* * *

"What the hell is that?" Wilson aggressively pointed his finger towards the TV screen, almost knocking his beer bottle over in his other hand. "You watch Desperate Housewives?" he asked incredulously. He knew House's taste in TV was somewhat questionable but he had no idea it was this bad.

"What?" House shrugged "I'm a single middle aged man and they are hot middle aged women. What's not to like?" House cracked open another bottle of cheap beer. "Nobody watches it for the plot. Women watch it for the sexy men and I, and many other lonely singletons, watch it for the smoking hot women." Wilson rolled his eyes. "Unlike you I don't get my rocks off to CNN news anchors."

Wilson raised his hand in defence. "That was one time and even you said she was hot."

"Yeah, yeah. You still jacked off to the news." House raised his eyebrows. "There was probably a story about dying children or an earthquake story in the background and you were sitting fiddling your crotch. So much for humanitarian Jimmy."

Wilson gave a defeatist sigh and glanced at the beer bottle in his hand. It was empty already. He swore he only started drinking it a couple of minutes ago. He shrugged, tossed the empty bottle onto the table and ran his fingers through his straggly hair. "How many have I had?"

House flicked a hand through the plastic bag. "There's three left and we bought a pack of sixteen. This is my seventh so you my friend have had six." House took a gulp of beer.

"Six? Really." Wilson puffed out his cheeks. He cast a look at the dark clock that hung on House's wall. It was 11:20 and he was too drunk to drive. "Shit. I've gotta go. Last bus is 11:30. Where's the bus stop from here? Five minutes or so?"

House waved his hand. "Just stay here. You can sleep on my couch."

Wilson smiled. "Thanks but I have paperwork to do for tomorrow. I've been here longer than I thought I would be."

"Oh stop being so square." House grimaced. "Nobody will die if you don't do paperwork and nobody will lose their hair since all your patients are bald anyway."

"Nice House." Wilson rose from his seated position. "I need to do the paperwork. I'll get behind if I don't." Wilson grabbed his jacket and swung his arms through the holes. He stumbled as he went to grab his cellphone from the brown walnut coffee table.

House chuckled. "Woah. You okay there dizzy?"

"I'm fine. Just got up a little quick that's all." He stuffed his cellphone into his pocket and slowly manoeuvred himself towards the door.

"Yeah right." House guffawed loudly. "Take some Advil when you get home. It'll take the edge off your hangover." House knew Wilson was a little worse for the wear, but the bus stop wasn't far and Wilson would make it in it time even with his incredibly slow walking pace. "See you tomorrow."

Wilson opened the door and stepped into the hall. "See you tomorrow House." He closed the door behind him gently, careful not to aggravate the already throbbing pain that was situated on the left side of his head.

Cold. Bitter cold. That was the first thing that hit is tired body when he stepped down onto the sidewalk. He zipped up his flimsy jacket and stuffed his hands firmly into his pockets, insulating himself against the biting New Jersey winds. The bus stop was only two blocks away and he knew he had plenty of time to make it for the last bus of the evening.

He headed east to the top of the street, paying attention to every step he made as he began to feel the alcohol addle his coordination. He took a left at the junction and could faintly see the bus stop in the distance, the wooden seat giving away its position.

"Hey man. Give me a few dollars." A gruff voice pleaded from the shadows over Wilson's left shoulder. Wilson ignored the voice and carried on towards his destination. "Hey!" The voice bellowed, this time in an angrier tone. "Hey! I'm talking to you. Give me a few dollars."

Wilson felt his body being whipped round by the sharp force of the bellowing man's hand. "I-I-I haven't got any money."

The man that confronted Wilson was of equal height and build, with long brown hair and dark, almost black, eyes which wouldn't be so strange if they weren't perfectly circular. He grabbed Wilson by the side of the neck, squeezed hard and flashed a sinister grin. "Don't bullshit me man. You look like you got money and I want some of that money."

Wilson gulped hard, catching a stubborn lump of air in his throat. "I-I don't think I have much." Wilson started padding down his pockets and the inside of his jacket. _Where's my fucking wallet? Shit, shit, shit. _And then the cold realization; he had left his wallet behind. It was underneath House's coffee table where he had tossed it after became uncomfortable in his pocket. "I don't have my wallet." His voice was almost pleading to the grubby man in front of him.

The man's eyes stared back unflinching and a sadistic smirk creeped across his stubbled jawline. "Don't give me that crap. A guy like you doesn't walk around without his wallet." He inched his face towards Wilson's, his acrid breath billowing into the cold air. "Now give me your fucking money or my friend here will gut you like a fish." The man's voice had lowered in tone, almost to a whisper.

A taller man stepped out from the shadows and flashed a blade in Wilson's direction. "Damn right I will."

"Really I-I don't have my wallet. I w-was having a few b-beers at friend's house. I m-must have left it behind. " Wilson gesticulated nervously. "You've got to believe me."

"Do I?" The man grabbed Wilson's left arm. "Do I really?"

Before Wilson could reply, he felt the brute force of a fist against his torso. He bent double as he struggled to catch his breath, gulping and gasping for air as he clutched his pained stomach. Suddenly his hair was yanked upwards, jerking his neck back painfully into the air. "Please.....please.....I don't..." His begging was interrupted by another hit, this time on his jaw. The force flung him sideways onto a nearby wall. The metallic tang of fresh blood swirled in his mouth as he once again struggled to catch his breath.

_Run_ his mind was imploring, but he couldn't muster the strength. The taller man grabbed Wilson's throat with vigour and thrust his body up against the wall.

Wilson's next feeling was one of sheer unadulterated pain as the man plunged the blade clean into his stomach. The man pulled upwards to revel in the grimace that had spread across his victim's face. He plunged the blade in again and watched in glee as a small trickle of blood escaped his victim's lips.

"Hey! That's enough. Jesus Christ." The smaller man pulled his friend away and left a bloody and bruised Wilson lying hunched against a wall.

Wilson was already feeling light-headed as he felt his sweater soak in his own blood. He gently pressed his torso, hoping to stem the blood he could fell oozing out of his body. But it was to no avail.

A blurring outline of the clear and starlit sky was the last thing Wilson saw before slipping out of consciousness.

* * *

"Dammit." House grumbled as he dropped his cane, sending it rolling under the coffee table. He limped over and fumbled underneath the coffee table to retrieve his cane. Instead he came across a small soft object. "Wilson. Stupid ass left his wallet." He flipped open the wallet and found Wilson's ID, office and home key and copious amounts of ten dollar bills. How Wilson managed to have this sort of money on his person all the time was a mystery to him.

House sighed, irritated that he would have to call his friend. Wilson needed his wallet otherwise he wouldn't be able to get into his office or apartment or get the bus. House begrudgingly flipped open his cellphone and dialled Wilson's number.

_You've reached the cell of James Wilson. Busy right now but leave a message and I'll get back to you_.

_Odd. Wilson would have answered his phone. There's no way he was home yet. _House's face took on a quizzical expression. Wilson _always_ answers his cellphone. He tried again and encountered the same outcome. _Wilson wouldn't have walked, it's too far and he would have come back if he had missed the bus._ House tried Wilson's cellphone in a last, futile attempt to contact him and again he was sent voice mail.

House groaned. He would have to go and chase Wilson down. House shrugged on the first jacket that came to hand and hobbled his way out his apartment. The street was deserted apart from three drunk, staggering men who were weaving their way down the other side of the street. House rolled his eyes and carried on his way towards the bus stop. He took a left at the top of the street and squinted into the distance. The bus stop was there and he could make out the faint shapes of people.

He got to the bus stop just as the last bus pulled in. Wilson wasn't at the bus stop. House tapped the solitary bus user on the shoulder. "Excuse me. Has a guy been here? Tall-ish, dark hair, annoying looking face."

The lady raised her eyebrow. "No. I've been her nearly ten minutes. No one has been here except me. Sorry." She shrugged and climbed aboard the bus.

"Damn." House cursed under his breath and limped his way back towards his apartment. He flipped out his cellphone to check if Wilson had rang back but he had no missed calls. He re-dialled Wilson's number for the fourth time.

House's concentration was immediately disturbed at the familiar sound of the first chords of Sweet Home Alabama ringing in his ears. He pulled his cellphone away from his ear and hit the cancel button on his cellphone. The music stopped. House re-dialled the number. The music started again.

House's eyes widened in fear. "Wilson! Wilson! Where are you?" He kept the call going and followed the music towards the direction of a shadowed alley further down the street.

The alley was obscured by shadow but House sensed he had stood in something wet, his shoe felt heavier underfoot. He pulled his foot up to see a dark black pool of _something _on his show. There was only one thing that looked like that in the dark and the horrified expression that House wore signified that he knew what it was.

He flicked the light on his cellphone and shone it down the alley. There, lying slumped on the left wall was Wilson, his head bowed and sweater stained in blood.

"Holy crap. Wilson!" House painfully dropped to his knees and tipped his friend's head back. He pulled out his cellphone and dialled 911. "I need an ambulance. Now!....Just hurry it up." House gave his location and slammed his cellphone shut. "Shit. Wilson! Can you hear me? Wilson! It's House. Can you hear me?"

A weak, gargled groan passed Wilson's lips much to House's relief.

"Don't move okay. The ambulance will be here soon. Just stay with me okay. Don't you dare fall asleep on me." House removed his jacket and pressed it gently onto Wilson's stomach. "Come on."

Wilson's head lolled forward as House applied pressure with his hands.

"Hey! Wake up." House lifted Wilson's head hoping to snap him back into consciousness. "Fuck!" House clasped Wilson's face with both his hands. "Wake up. Please wake up. Come on Wilson. Wake up."

* * *

_A/N Cliffhanger!!!! :) So yeah that's the start. Should I bother going on? Perhaps, perhaps not._


	2. Pull At The Reign

_A/N Bit of a shorter chapter here. But never fear, the next one will be a bit longer._

_Read and enjoy :)_

* * *

_When will my friend start singing again? _

Wilson didn't wake up. Not on the way to the hospital or before he was rushed into emergency surgery.

House flung his cane onto the floor as he was pushed back through the double doors and into the waiting room by the emergency nurse.

Frustration didn't cover how he was feeling. He wanted to be in there, not sitting and staring at beige lino flooring. It had always been House having the close brushes with death. It had been he who would usually be lying conscious or unconscious with Wilson pacing closely to his bedside. It he been he who was without pain and worry while Wilson was beset by both. But now the tables had turned for the first time. He and Wilson had swapped places and for the first time he could feel what Wilson had felt all those times he had been at death's door. The angst, the worry, the concern were all flowing through House's mind.

Angst about the extent of Wilson's injuries. Worry about whether his friend would ever get out of surgery. Concern about what was to come. House was a logical man but this was the first situation he had encountered where logic didn't seem important any more.

He looked down at his lightly stained hands. In the lines and nails of his hands lay streaks of blood from when he tried to stem the bleeding. He gently rubbed his hands on his jeans and took a seat on the soft chair behind.

"What happened?" A familiar voice echoed. House looked up to see Cuddy looking drawn and tired. Her eyes widened and she spotted the flecks of blood on House's shirt and jeans.

"What the hell are you doing here?" House furrowed his brows. _It was nearly midnight and Cuddy was still at work. Strange._

"It doesn't matter what I'm doing here? What the hell happened?" She sat down on the chair next to House, her hand placed itself on his shoulder.

"Wilson." House rubbed his face. "He's in there. Found him in an alley covered in blood so I thought I would bring him to the hospital. You know, get him checked out."

Cuddy rolled her eyes at the defensive sarcasm. "Seriously House what happened?"

"I don't know!" He shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "He was at my place. He left to get the bus but left his wallet. I went to give him it back and then I found him. That's it."

"Are you okay?"

"Strangely enough no. I'm sitting on my lame ass while my friend is in there bleeding to death and I can't do anything!"

Cuddy said nothing more but merely planted a kiss of the side of House's head before getting up. She walked over to the emergency nurse and gently requested that she was kept informed about Wilson's status. The nurse nodded and Cuddy took her seat next House.

"He's gonna be okay." She put on her most sympathetic voice in attempt to calm House's obvious agitation.

"You don't know that."

"He's stronger than you give him credit for."

"You've obviously never seen him try to open a tub of mayo?"

"No I haven't but this is Wilson we are talking about. He won't just give up."

House shrugged. Before Amber died he would have agreed but Wilson hadn't been the same since. The drive and want to do all he could for others was a feature of Wilson's personality beforehand but House had seen it wane somewhat since Amber's death. Wilson had spent most of his time either in his office or the cafeteria. His rounds were shorter as he spent less and less face-to-face time with patients. House assumed it was exhaustion or just fatigue which he thought would disappear eventually. But things continued in the same vein.

The whole point of Wilson coming round to his apartment was for House to probe for an answer as to why his friend's approach to his patients had so dramatically changed but he never got an answer. Not even close and it looked like it would stay that way when the emergency nurse quickly darted through the double doors.

Both House and Cuddy shot up out of their seats. House forged forwards towards the doors, intent on barging his way in and help his friend.

"House! You can't go in there."

"Watch me." House flung open the doors and was presented with a blur of blue clothing and bright lights.

_Charging 300. Clear_

House stood frozen by horror as he watched Wilson's body violently jerk up and then down. The monotonous squeal that ringed around the room signified that Wilson had crashed.

_Charging 360. Clear_

The defibrillators pushed another jolt through Wilson's body and again he jerked. The squeal was momentarily replaced by the gentle beep of a heartbeat before slipping back to a straight flat line on the monitor.

"What the hell is he doing in here? Get him out of here!" A voice with a unrecognisable Australian twang barked at the nurse. "House! Get out."

Two nurses manhandled House back into the waiting room where Cuddy still remained standing exactly where House had left her.

There was no need for words, Cuddy could get all the information she needed just from seeing the look in House's eyes. From what she could see it didn't look good.

House silently took a seat, lips clasped together forming a perfect thin line. "Chase is in there."

Cuddy strained to hear the mumbled words. "What?"

"Chase is in there. The wombat, the one with funny accent. The guy who is meant to be British but isn't. " House anxiously fixed his eyes on the floor.

"I know. He's the on-call surgeon." She leaned over, trying to snap House out of his studious gaze. "Wilson's in good hands House. You know that."

House wasn't worried about who was in there with Wilson. He knew Chase was a damn good surgeon. No, it wasn't that. It was the fact that he couldn't do _anything_. He was in the family in this situation. He was the one who had to sit twiddling his thumbs while the one he cares for is elsewhere bleeding and flat lining.

The pain in House's leg had been dulled by the distraction of what had happened but now he was sitting back down, now he was thinking about it all, the pain was flooded back. He gently rubbed his thigh in an attempt to calm the dull ache that was coursing through his leg.

"I need some Vicodin." A grimace spread across his face as another shot of pain ran up his leg. "I left mine in my apartment."

"I'll get my prescription pad." Cuddy strode away towards her office.

House pressed his palms into his eyes, hoping to block out the bright hospital lights that were making his head pound. Instead the vision of Wilson jerking violently on the operating table flashed in front of him. House bit his lip at the thought of his friend's flailing limbs and blood smeared chest.

No matter whether he had his eyes open or closed he couldn't escape the fact that Wilson was dying. Dying merely feet away from him and he couldn't do anything about it.

House removed his hands from his face and looked up and the bright white ceiling.

For the first time in a long time he prayed.

* * *

_A/N So yeah, shorter chapter. I felt the next part would be better being it's own chapter instead of just skipping in the middle of this one. Hope you enjoyed :)_

_**Some Riot**- Elbow ©2008 The Seldom Seen Kid_


	3. If The Silence Takes You

_A/N Thanks to all who have read this so far and for the nice reviews. You lovely people. Slightly filler-ish chapter. Every story has one and I guess this is probably be mine. So excuse me for that. Enjoy :)_

* * *

_Help me out here  
All my words are falling short_

It was 3:30 in the morning. House had been sitting in the same chair for nearly four hours, his eyes still boring into the ugly cream wall opposite. Cuddy had provided him with enough Vicodin to get through the next twenty-four hours and the sharp pains he felt previously had been significantly dulled by his usual excessive popping of the pills.

There had been little movement from behind the operating theatre doors. Nobody had came and nobody had left. House should have felt somewhat consoled by the fact that no one had been called in; it hinted that nothing serious had happened since Wilson's first crash. But the fact that no one had came out also hinted that it was not going smoothly. The emergency nurse who was called in to help revive Wilson hadn't passed back through those imposing double doors.

"That nurse hasn't came back." House mumbled just loud enough to wake Cuddy from her gentle nap.

Her face flickered into life, her eyelids fluttering as she tried to gain back her focus on House. "What?" was the tired question that escaped her lips.

"That nurse. She didn't come back out."

Cuddy sighed. "I'm sure it's nothing. They probably just want to make sure everything is covered. Would you rather they had less staff in there?"

House bounced the end of his cane off the floor. "Something is wrong. You don't keep nurses in there if you don't need them. If Wilson was fine she would be back _here_ doing her job _here_. Not in there standing around taking up the space and doing nothing."

"I'm sure she is staying in there for a reason."

House rolled his eyes in frustration."Yeah. Perhaps to massage Chase's guns while he works or entertain them all by dancing to the beat of Wilson's heart."

Cuddy sensed the worry and mounting frustration in House's voice. She knew the worse he felt the more he deflected with barbed and acerbic comments. But she knew House had every reason to worry.

She had talked to the paramedic who had informed her that the bleeding was significant, that is was very likely an organ had been damaged and that she rated Wilson's chance at 30/70. At this moment in time Cuddy was clinging to that thirty percent. She had seen startling recoveries in patients with less chance and that is what kept her calm, almost controlled in her manner around House. House had enough to deal with without her crying on his shoulder.

She could see in House's eyes the he was scared to death. The way he kept looking at the floor instead of trying his usual tactic of bribery and malicious verbal ways to get into that operating theatre or at least see what was happening. Sure he had tried, but the sight he was greeted with when he burst his way in had knocked him for six.

His friend was technically dead in front of him. Technically dead and being shocked back to life over and over again.

Cuddy had noticed House had been remarkably quiet since then, barely looking up from the floor or saying anything. The last three hours had consisted of her watching him spin a cane in between his hands and occasionally pop a pill. This was not a House she had ever seen before. She had seen him in pain, in tears, emotionally and physically hurting but she had never seen him look so completely terrified.

His face remained unmoved apart from the occasional rub of his stubbled jaw against his hand. He was still, almost tranquil in his physical appearance but inside the waves of consternation and dread battered his body.

He darted a quick look towards Cuddy and for a brief moment their eyes met. He could sense her mind reading his. She knew he was frightened and he could see that by the gentle but pained smile that he was given.

"You want some coffee?" Cuddy broke the awkward silence that had descended over the two of them.

"Mmm." House flapped a dismissive hand.

"You've not had anything since you got here. I'm getting you a coffee."

"Fine. Whatever."

Cuddy came back with two coffee cups and three sachets of sugar. She handed House a cup and offered him a couple of sachets. "I wasn't sure how much sugar you took so I brought two."

House accepted the cup. "I don't take any...but," he grabbed the sachets out of Cuddy's hand and stuffed them in his pocket, "...I'll keep them for Wilson's first drink of a celebratory coffee if we ever get out of here. He likes to rot his own teeth."

* * *

It wasn't until twenty past four that there was any sign of progress in the operating theatre. Two nurses left, both in clean scrubs but both looking truly exhausted. The next face to emerge was the one House was looking for.

Chase, his eyes circled with dark rings from the obvious lack of sleep, emerged from the theatre with a solemn face.

House immediately got up and approached his colleague. "Well..."

"He's stable."

House rolled his eyes. "Well thank you for your incisive analysis. I wanna know how he is and what the hell happened in there."

Chase took a deep breath. "There was a lot of bleeding and I mean I lot. He had been stabbed twice roughly in the same area of his abdomen. The blade had nicked his large intestine, his right kidney and made a pretty sizeable laceration on his liver." Chase ran a hand through his greasy, dishevelled hair. "Main job was to save the liver and we did that. Then it was just a case of stopping the bleeding which took a lot longer than we anticipated."

House furrowed his brows "But you managed to control it right?"

"Yeah but only just. He flat lined but we managed to revive him pretty quickly." Chase bit his bottom lip as he saw the anxiety in House's face. "I can't promise you he'll be fine but I can say he's fine for now. We just have to be careful in case he bleeds again and watch in case he develops hypocalcemia." Chase placed a friendly hand on House's shoulder. "The nurses are moving him to ICU. You should go and see him."

House merely nodded in response and turned to make his way towards ICU leaving an exhausted looking Chase and lethargic Cuddy in the waiting room.

"God. He seemed rather intense." Chase rubbed his eyes wearily.

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. "Are you serious? You are aware it's Wilson in there."

"When something something is troubling House he usually volleys abuse at people more than he usually does. Specifically he calls me a crappy surgeon and a koala or whatever stereotypical Aussie phrase he can think of that day. Never once has he just accepted what I say and left. Has he ever done that with you?"

"No."

"And you've know him how long?"

Cuddy sighed. "A long time."

"Exactly. We should keep an eye on him." Chase shot Cuddy a deadly serious look.

"What? He's not going to _do_ anything."

"And what if Wilson dies?"

Cuddy didn't respond. She didn't know what to say but she knew Chase had a point. House couldn't deal with something of that magnitude, he had barely got through the period where Wilson and he weren't talking. If she lost Wilson she would no doubt lose House. Over the years it had became apparent that one couldn't function properly without the other. "I guess you have a point."

"You _know_ I have a point. You're just as concerned about House as you are Wilson. You know if Wilson dies House will crumble. Just watch out for him that's all I'm saying." Chase rubbed his jaw.

Cuddy looked at the floor trying to digest Chase's words. "What do you think Wilson's chances are?"

"Honestly..." Chase paused, "...I don't know. Presuming he doesn't start bleeding again then I'd give him a fighting chance. But I really don't know. Sorry I can't be more positive."

Cuddy smiled. "You did all you can. Thank you."

"I'm just going to grab a shower. I'll hang around afterwards." With a weak smile Chase made his way to the employees shower room to wash away the night's blood and sweat.

* * *

Why House had tried to be as quiet as possible dragging the chair across the floor, he didn't know. His oncologist friend was unconscious and still under the influence of anaesthesia so the sound of a scraping chair on a hard floor was unlikely to wake Wilson from his sleep. Nevertheless, House carefully pulled up a chair and took a seat next to Wilson's bedside.

Wilson's torso and lower chest were swathed in bandages and there was also a noticeable mark of mottled purple on his ribs where House assumed a fist had made its presence known. There was also a small patch of swelling under Wilson's left eye and cheek.

His friend lay still. If House were anywhere else he would have thought Wilson was merely in a serene sleep but the drips, tubes and monitors surrounding the bed told another story. He wasn't sleeping, he was fighting for his life or at least House hoped he was.

His instincts were telling him to say something caustic or witty to break the awkward silence and let Wilson know he was here. Whether or not he would be heard didn't really matter. But he was lost for words.

Instead House sat quietly, his hand on Wilson's, watching his friend's chest steadily rise and fall, occasionally squeezing Wilson's hand to let him know of his presence.

House glanced heavy-eyed at the clock that hung above the glass panels. It was 4:30.

He took a last guilty look at the sedate face of his friend before lying back in his chair and letting his eyes rest to a close.

* * *

A/N _So yeah slightly filler-esque. But cheers for reading too. Cheer me up with a nice review too because my football (European soccer) team got relegated are now no longer playing in the top league :(_

_**Please Forgive Me-** David Gray © 1999 White Ladder_

_**Soul Meets Body-** Death For Cutie __© 2005 Plans  
_


	4. The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

_A/N Again, I thank you for the nice reviews. I would send you some cake by pigeon mail if I had any pigeons and any cake but I guess it's the thought that counts. Read and enjoy :)_

* * *

_He'll tick tick tick  
Tick tick tick tick away.  
Another second lost  
With every fallen grain. _

House was woken by the sound of a glass panel being pushed to one side. He slowly opened one eye and cast a quick look at whoever had entered the room. Taub, Thirteen and Foreman, two of them in their obligatory lab coats and the other in a smart suit, stood at the entrance to the room.

"Is it worth opening both my eyes?" House enquired. He saw Taub shuffle his feet which was his own way of saying he was extremely uncomfortable. Thirteen merely clasped her hands together while Foreman's expression and body language stayed the same as it was when he entered the room, with his hands casually stuck inside his pockets.

Thirteen swallowed awkwardly before speaking. "Um... We just came to see how Wilson was doing and how you were doing?"

"So that's a no then." House shut his eye and carried on pretending to sleep.

"Come on House." Foreman piped up.

House stubbornly refused to open his eyes. "You're only here because Cuddy sent you to check up on me. Well Thirteen possibly gives a damn. I know you..." He pointed in the general direction of Foreman "...don't really care enough to want to be down here on your own accord and Taub, well you're just you.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Taub was stung by House's suggestion.

House opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "You know what I mean, midget." A blue file that was saddled between Taub's jacket and arm caught House's eye. He was like a magpie spotting a glistening object in a sea of dull,washed out colours. "What's that? We have a new case?"

Taub instinctively tried to mask the file by manoeuvring his arm and declaring that it was nothing of interest." Oh that? That's nothing. Just some clinic file."

"Bad lie. Clinic files are not blue nor would you be just walking around with one randomly tucked under your arm. Gimme." House outstretched his arm and beckoned Taub over to pass the file.

Taub turned and looked at Foreman who merely shrugged. Taub rolled his eyes and begrudgingly passed House the file.

House duly whipped the film out of Taub's lame and defeated grasp. "Thank you Bilbo." House flipped open the file and read the details inside. "28 year old female. Fever, abdominal swelling, bloody diarrhoea and weight loss." House snapped the file closed. "You come all this way to bother me with a simple case of Crohn's disease. If you're going to disturb me with a case then at least give me something interesting."

"But we were going to do this case ourselves. You know with the situation being what it is." Taub tried to rescue his pride and the situation.

It was ten in the morning, the last thing Taub wanted to do was aggravate his boss' understandably angry mood.

"Well at least give _yourselves_ an interesting case. Cuddy doesn't sign your pay cheques just so you guys can stand around diagnosing diseases that a intern could diagnose with his eyes closed." House tossed the file towards Thirteen who fumbled the file onto the floor. "Do some blood work, colonoscopy and a CT if needed and get a stool sample to confirm."

Taub and Thirteen stood still with their faces blank. Foreman took a step outside and waited for the others to follow. He knew from experience that this wasn't the time to be bothering House. He could see House had that 'say-a-word-and-I-will-rip-you-apart' look in his eyes and rightly so. The best thing that he and the others could do was leave him alone and not invade his space as much as they were concerned for him and Wilson.

Instead of following Foreman, Thirteen paced over to House, taking a quick glimpse at Wilson, before stopping in front of her boss. "I'm sorry. I'm sure he'll be fine." All she got was a stare in response. She saw this as her call to move on, she was not going to get a nod of recognition here. She turned on her heels and walked out of the room.

Taub merely nodded and then joined his colleagues, leaving House alone with Wilson once again.

* * *

"He looked tired." Taub pulled out a needle ready to take some blood from their unconscious patient.

Thirteen was carefully noting the patients vitals. "Are you surprised? He's probably been up all night."

"I guess so. Did you find out what happened to Wilson?" Taub shook the vial of blood and placed it on the tray.

"Cameron told me he had been attacked in the street." Thirteen attached the clipboard back onto the end of the bed and walked around the side of the bed.

"Attacked?" Taub's eyebrows jumped up his forehead. "Do you think he'll make it? Because it looked pretty serious from where I was standing."

Before Thirteen could answer, an irritated looking Foreman entered the patient's room. He had been standing outside, listening to Thirteen and Taub's conversation and getting steadily annoyed as they discussed Wilson's chances in front of another patient even if they were unconscious. He was never particularly close to Wilson and sometimes found him a babbling pain in the ass but he was a respected colleague and not a bad guy.

"How long does it take two doctors to get some blood?"

"We were just-" Taub gestured defensively.

"I heard what you guys were doing. Gossiping about a colleague, who is in the ICU, in a patient's room. Very professional."

Taub and Thirteen bowed their heads like two children who had been scolded by their parents.

Foreman gestured towards the door. "Now do the blood work so we can get this patient diagnosed and out of here."

* * *

House wearily rubbed his temples in an attempt to click his mind out of the tired and dazed stupor he was in. He had managed six hours solid sleep in a ridiculously uncomfortable chair; he had never managed that much undisturbed sleep in a comfortable bed.

He reached into his pocket to grab himself another Vicodin pill but found nothing. _I couldn't have had all those Vicodin_. Scratching his head in confusion, he wondered where the hell his pills could have gone. Cuddy had gave him more than enough to last twenty four hours yet within twelve hours they were all gone. _I must have dropped some_.

The leg was starting to hurt again. The all too familiar throb and ache began to twist and turn its way through his muscles. He needed a Vicodin but he didn't want to leave Wilson's side just in case.

Just in case.

He looked at Wilson's placid face. Nothing had changed. He still lay as he was when House fell asleep. House wasn't sure that this would change in the space of ten minutes, which was how long it would take for Cuddy to write a prescription and for him to go and claim it.

No, he'd wait it out. Wilson was always telling him to battle through the pain instead of popping a pill every time the pain flares a little.

House's resolve lasted all of 3 minutes. By this time the pain had become excruciating and the fact he couldn't stop thinking about how painful it was had actually made it worse. He glanced at Wilson hoping to find an answer.

_Or as The Clash would say: Should I stay or should I go?_ House chuckled to himself.

A sharp shot of pain surged through House's thigh. _Go!_

He quickly grabbed his cane and hobbled his way towards the sliding door, every step shooting bolts of pain up his right leg.

Suddenly, he stopped. Something had caught his attention, a flicker, a twitch, something.

He turned his attention back to Wilson's bed, with his pain curiously fading somewhat. Eager to discover what caught his attention, he scanned the monitors and found that everything was the same. A solid heartbeat and steady but slightly elevated BP.

It wasn't light that had distracted him. The blinds were drawn. Only the false light of the strips on the ceiling lit the room.

Then House saw it again. The gentle movement of a hand feeling the sheet beneath. Wilson had moved.

House's eyes widened and he hurriedly limped back to the bed. "Wilson. Wilson. It's House." He gently slid his hand in between Wilson's left hand and the linen beneath. "Squeeze my hand if you can hear me Wilson."

Nothing.

"Come on. I know you can hear me." House froze, aching to feel something on his hand, a flutter of a finger or a gentle squeeze. But again he felt nothing.

House felt a warm stinging sensation in his eyes. He held up a hand and wiped the dampness from the lines of his eyes. All he wanted was for Wilson to wake up, to indicate he was still there but the hope House possessed was ebbing away with every hour that passed.

House angrily jabbed his cane into the floor. He had nobody to lash out his anger and frustration at so the floor would have to suffice.

He couldn't lose Wilson. Not after all that they had been through. Even through all the games, the messing and personal pain, Wilson had usually been there in his own way. He couldn't live without Wilson and he was pretty sure Wilson couldn't live without him.

His eyes crunched closed in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of what was building up behind.

House almost jumped back in shock when he felt a faint squeeze of his hand which he had left under Wilson's. Shock was quickly replaced with relief and he gently squeezed Wilson's hand back.

"Thank you for joining us." House stifled a smile into a simple smirk as he watched Wilson's eyes flutter into life.

* * *

_**A/N **Bah! I didn't have the heart to kill him off. I love Wilson too much. But of course there is more to come. (Oh yeah and if anyone is curious, this will NOT turn into a H/W slash fic. Just thought I should say. All the love is friend love. I love my friends and I am sure you do to).  
_

_**Captain and the Hourglass**_- _Laura Marling _©2008 _Alas I Cannot Swim_

_**The Waiting**- Tom Petty _© 1981 _Hard Promises _


	5. Nothing Is As it Seems

_A/N More nice reviews means a happy Moose :D Thank you to those who reviewed, and those who have this story on alerts... well I'll let you off for now ;) At the end of this chapter the story takes a different turn and hopefully sets up the rest of the fic. Read and enjoy y'all :)_

_Oh yeah and a gold star to whoever spots the Blackadder reference!_

* * *

The panic and fear that had stricken House for over the past twelve hours melted away as soon as Wilson's soft brown eyes were lit up by the strip lights. They looked drained and weak but the fact they were open was enough to make House feel optimistic about the situation.

"Lucky you left your wallet behind huh?" House arched his eyebrows. He didn't know why his was asking a question, rhetorical or not. Wilson couldn't answer with an intubation tube down his throat.

House recalled Cuddy wanting to be informed the moment Wilson woke up but House didn't enjoy the thought of leaving a Wilson only minutes after he regained consciousness.

Thirteen was the name that immediately springed to mind. He swiped his pager out of his pocket and paged her, satisified in his mind that she would come running straight away. He was right.

In a matter of seconds she was standing at the entrance of the room looking unamused. She furrowed her brows. "You paged me a code blue." She held up the pager as evidence of House's apparent crime.

"Well this is a very important matter. Possibly worthy of a code blue." House knew Thirteen's curiosity would get the better of her.

Thirteen sighed loudly, puffing air of out her nose at an alarming speed. "Unless someone is actually coding then it's not a code blue. This is just a 'waste-my-time' code."

House shrugged. "I need you to go and tell Cuddy that Wilson is awake."

"He's awake?" Thirteen strained her neck, eyes widened to catch a glimpse.

House deliberately stood in her way, blocking her view. "Yes. Now go." He shooed her out the door before gliding the panel shut and cutting the blinds.

He turned and limped back towards Wilson's beside. "Let's get this thing out of your mouth. You haven't been able to talk for over half a day. This must be killing you."

Wilson gave a weak shrug and the corners of his lips were ever so slightly turned upwards.

"Try your best not to cough. You don't want to rip open your stitches and I don't want to clean it up either." House should have waited for the nurse but, never the one to go by the rules, he knew he was perfectly capable of removing Wilson's intubation tube himself. Also he was technically on his shift and thus his status had changed from family to doctor. Not that Cuddy would see it that way

Wilson gently nodded and braced himself for what would a very unpleasant sensation.

Wilson gagged hard as the tube was pulled from in his throat. _Don't cough_. _Don't cough_. He managed not to but the gagging was making his stomach wretch just as much and it hurt like hell.

"Hey. Wait a minute. You forgot this." House tucked a small clear tube around Wilson's eyes and attached the rest to his nostrils. "Now you're ready to go to school." House cheerily smiled before settling down on the chair.

Wilson sighed wearily and gently swallowed to get some feeling back in his throat. "My mouth feels like... I've been eating sand." A pained expression crossed his face as he tried to speak.

"Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you, the left side of your face is swollen to the size of Cuddy's ass. Well maybe not _that_ huge but it definitely has put a new spin on your pretty boy looks."

Wilson weakly giggled but even that was enough to send a uncomfortable surge through his right side. "Ow, ow, ow. Don't make me laugh."

House chuckled along, his relief and emotion spilling out in the form of laughter.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you." Wilson's voice was hoarse and raspy, a huge departure from what House was used to. He felt like he was talking to a guy with a 40 a-day cigarette habit.

House absent-mindedly twirled the cane around his fingers. "So what the hell happened last night?"

"Honestly? "Wilson cleared his throat. "I can't remember a lot. I remember leaving your apartment. I was walking towards the bus stop and this guy...this guy just came out of nowhere. Said he needed money but I didn't have any."

"You left your wallet at my place."

"I know that. I told him but he didn't believe me. The next thing I remember is being hit in the face and that's it. I must have blacked out...I don't know."

House eyed Wilson up curiously. Wilson was conscious when he found him. Why didn't he remember that?

House's deep thought and concentration were disturbed by the click-clack of heels in the room.

"Big momma is here."

Cuddy stood, head titled, hands on her hips and glared venomously at House. "Big momma is telling you not to waste Thirteen's time with menial tasks again. As much as I know you like to mess around your employees, they are also my employees." Before House could formulate a comeback she turned her attention towards Wilson. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

Wilson groaned. "As good as can be expected I guess. But my face hurts like hell."

Cuddy sympathetically nodded. "Any other pain?"

Wilson gently shook his head. "No. I mean my side hurts but by the looks of things it should be."

Then it hit her. She straightened up and scowled in House's direction. "Who the hell took his tube out?"

"Um.. Nurse....Miggins." The high pitch in which House ended his sentence told Cuddy the answer.

"You can't just going round taking out people's breathing apparatus whether they be patient or friend. You could have hurt him!"

"Did I hurt him? Ummmmm... No."

"That's not the point."

"I'm a doctor and I think you'll find my shift started two hours ago so technically I can do doctor based things. You know, like diagnose, treat patients. But obviously being the Dean for so long you become unaware of that area of medicine."

Cuddy left out a frustrated growl as House poked his tongue out at her.

"God. Will you two please be quiet? You're giving me a headache." Wilson grumbled before shutting his eyes, hoping to concentrate on something other than the noise coming from both Cuddy and House.

"Sorry Wilson." Cuddy kissed Wilson's forehead. "I'll be back later. You should probably try get some sleep." She smiled and headed towards the door. "House. I'll see you in my office later."

"Oooo. A trip to big momma's house. How exciting." He gave a cheerful smile and wave as Cuddy left the room.

"Why do you have to goad her all the time?" Wilson shifted uncomfortably in his bed.

House tutted loudly. "I don't goad her. I simply provoke a reaction."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "It's the same thing."

"No it's not. To goad is to-"

House's explanation was cut short by a dismissive hand from Wilson. "Cuddy was right. I should probably get some sleep."

As much as he tried to mask it, Wilson could see House was hurt by his quick and unsubtle dismissal. He watched guiltily as House trudged to the door.

"Thank you House." Wilson smiled.

"No problem." House exited the room and down the corridor towards the lift.

* * *

Wilson spent the next six days in hospital, recovering and recuperating in the comfort of his own private room. It was a Friday morning when his appointed doctor decided he was ready to be discharged and recover in the comfort of his own apartment.

He should have been happy when Dr Johnson had informed him of the good news but the more he thought about having to go home to his apartment alone, the more Wilson baulked at the idea. It wasn't that he didn't want to go home; he would welcome a chance to get away from the rubbish food and the endless hours of boredom. No, it wasn't that.

It was the 'being alone' part that worried him. Cuddy had offered to stay at his apartment for a couple of days and help him settle back in but he couldn't accept the offer. She had a child, a baby. She already had one person to look after without him sticking his oar in. He was too scared to ask House for company. Too scared in case House laughed in his face and told him he was a sissy. He would have to do this on his own.

Wilson sighed and gently rubbed his eyes with his palms. He looked down at the small pile of his clothes that were on the chair next to him. His favourite slouchy jeans and his oversized McGill sweater were the clothes that were on offer to wear one his way home. Gently, he leant over, trying his best not to aggravate his stitches and pulled the clothes towards him.

He fumbled at the clothing labels, contemplating whether he should ask to be kept in longer or maybe perhaps to feign some pain just to stave off the inevitable discharge. Yeah, the food and bed was crappy but here he felt safe. Safe in the knowledge that just around the corner were people who would come to help if he needed it. Once he was home that safety net was gone. There would be nobody waiting around the corner to help him.

Wilson was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't notice House enter the room.

"You ready to leave this hell hole and suck money out of the hospital from the comfort of your own apartment?" House cheerily approached Wilson's bed, intending to crack Wilson out of his morose looking daze. Wilson didn't answer. "I'm talking to you."

"What?" Wilson stared glassy-eyed. "Oh. Hey...um." He had lost his train of thought.

"Are you okay? Have you been sucking on too much of that oxygen when the nurses weren't looking?" House let out a wistful sigh. "They were good times."

Wilson had no idea what House was talking about. All those words had gone straight over his head. "Probably."

"Did you even hear what I said?" House looked incredulously towards Wilson.

He had been caught. _Dammit_. "No. Sorry." Wilson unfurled his sweater. "Sorry. I'm just a bit distracted you know. Going home and stuff. It's been nearly a week an-."

"And your constant presence is beginning to annoy me? Thanks man." House feigned hurt.

"No, no, no." Wilson glared. "Just a bit stressful that's all."

"I know. You're going to have so much cleaning to do. All that dust and all those dishes."

"House." Wilson pleaded for House to take what he was saying seriously. Much to his delight, House held his hands up in defeat. "So used to having all these people around."

House guffawed."If you want me to stay at your place tonight and make sure you're okay then I could. As long as you promise _not_ to blow-dry your hair at eight in the morning."

Wilson waved his hand. "No. I can't ask you to do that. I'll be fine."

_What are you doing? He offered to stay and you're rejecting the offer! You idiot. You wanted him to stay._ As much as Wilson wanted House's company he couldn't make himself say yes to his friend's offer. He couldn't decide whether it was out of shame or wanting to keep his pride, but his bloody-mindedness had cost him the precise thing he wanted.

"I'll meet you at reception. I need to sort out a patient in the clinic who I left shaking a cup of their own urine."

Wilson shook his head and chuckled to himself as he watched House hurriedly limped out of the room.

* * *

"There you go." House dumped the last of Wilson's bags onto the oncologists couch. "How much crap does somebody need for a week in hospital? Jesus."

"Hey. It was Cuddy who gathered my things. I didn't ask for anything apart from clean underwear. Did you bring the bag of dressings?" Wilson's voice was distant as he was located in the kitchen while House had made himself comfortable in the living room.

"It's on the couch with the rest of your crap." House stole an unopened bag of potato chips from the coffee table and proceeded to gobble them up.

"You wanna beer?" Wilson popped his head from behind the kitchen door frame.

"No. I'm driving."

"Yeah. Like that hasn't stopped you before." Wilson's reply was thick with sarcasm.

"There is an L Word marathon tonight and I don't want to fall asleep during one of the bedroom scenes."

"That's what I thought." Wilson came back through holding a cup of coffee. "Thanks for helping me today." He took a sip and pulled his mouth back when the burning hot liquid hit his lips.

"That's what friends are for." House pushed himself off of the chair. "Now I have to go. My hand and my crotch have some pressing engagements."

Wilson grimaced at the thought of House's 'pressing engagements.' "Did you really have to tell me that?"

"Nope." House opened the door ready to make his exit. "If you need anything, call Cuddy. Nobody disturbs my L-Word marathon."

"Sure." Wilson nodded. "See you tomorrow House."

"See you tomorrow Wilson." And with the delicate click of a latch Wilson was alone. He gazed at his clock noticing it was only late afternoon but he was already exhausted even though he was drinking an unbelievably strong cup of coffee packed with the usual excessive amount of sugar. He gave the coffee a look of complete contempt before tossing the remains of the liquid into the sink.

* * *

Wilson wearily looked at his bedside alarm clock. 1:00am. He had went to bed four hours ago and had got precisely twenty minutes sleep, even that was intermittent.

Everything around him seemed to be magnified. The ticking of the wall clock in his living room was so loud it felt as if someone was standing over him and clicking his ears. He could hear the drip of his kitchen tap. The sound of water dropping on metal sounded like someone hammering nails into a wall.

Every hour without fail Wilson had got up and checked the locks on his door, and the windows in his bathroom, living room and kitchen even though they were double glazed.

The last straw came when the sound of footsteps outside forced him to bolt in his bed. He froze, anxiously trying to decipher where the footsteps were coming from and where they were heading. Scared out of hit wits, Wilson grabbed a golf club out of the back of his closet and headed towards the door.

With the club arched behind his head he quickly unlocked and flung open his door.

"Jesus! What the hell are you doing?" The dishevelled woman pushed back her straggly bed hair.

"Oh god. Michelle. God I'm sorry." Wilson flushed as he faced his neighbour from upstairs who merely been putting her garbage out front.

"You almost gave me a heart attack." She placed her hand across her chest.

"I know. I'm sorry. Really I am." He looked at the floor sheepishly. "Goodnight."

Wilson gently shut the door and leaned his back onto the frame. He was sweating, his shorts and t-shirt were soaked through. He tossed the golf club onto his couch and noticed his hand was trembling. This couldn't be done alone.

Wilson padded towards his phone and called the first number that came to mind. "House? I need you to come over."

* * *

_A/N Woah. That was longer than I thought it would be. If you have got to this point I assume you have read it so thank you!!!! :D Reviews=virtual cake. Mmm yes it does.  
_

_**Still A Long Way To Go**- James Dean Bradfield © 2007 The Great Western_


	6. Slowly My Soul Evaporates

_A/N Sorry this took so long. Degree results (I passed, I have a degree :D), internet issues and the sad news that a family member has a terminal illness has thrown me off track a bit. So here's what I knocked through the haze of all this news._

* * *

It was a good half an hour before House made it to Wilson's apartment. He felt unbelievably drowsy as he limply rapped on Wilson's door. House had no idea how he had not crashed his motorcycle on the way here; he was sure his eyes were half closed most of the drive.

The door was flung open and a wide-eyed looking Wilson pulled him inside, before locking the door behind him.

"Wilson. It's half one in the morning." House shuffled his way towards Wilson's couch and flopped onto the squishy seat below.

"Were you asleep?" Wilson tossed the golf club back into his wardrobe and began pacing around the living room.

"No. But that's not the point." House's eyes were getting tired of following Wilson around the room. "For god's sake will you stay still? You're making me dizzy." House rubbed his eyes. He had seen Wilson nervous and jittery before but there was a certain edge to it that House had never seen until now. "Will you sit down!" House swept a jacket off the couch, making room for Wilson to sit.

Wilson did as he was told and took a seat next to House. "I'm sorry I dragged you here." Wilson bit his bottom lip and shifted awkwardly in his seat. He felt like an idiot having to call his friend in the middle of the night to help him to sleep.

"Now you've got me here will you tell me what the hell is going on?" House rested his head on his hand. "You said earlier you didn't want me over now you're calling me in the middle of the night. I know you like me Wilson but booty calls? I'm not that type of guy."

Wilson responded with a wry smile and a shake of the head. "I couldn't sleep."

"That's it? You called my ragged ass over here for that?"

"I nearly hit my neighbour with a golf club."

"Was he trying to steal your cool stamp collection?"

"She..." Wilson looked confused. "I don't collect stamps."

House winked. "Sure."

Wilson crinkled his brows. "Yeah...um. I heard some noises outside. So I checked it out and ended up nearly batting my neighbour on the head." He scratched his chin. "She was only putting the garbage out."

"Are you sure she wasn't stealing it?"

"Stealing garbage? What? Will you be serious?" Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"You want me to stay here with you to make sure you don't assault your neighbour. I get it." House watched on as Wilson let out a weary sigh. House's eye was caught by the glint off of Wilson's brow. His friend had been sweating profusely. The night hadn't been hot enough to be the cause so either Wilson was detoxing off some magical drug or he was nervous as hell.

"No. I just..." Wilson ringed his hands."...I just want you to stay here. Just for my piece of mind." Wilson looked anxiously at House, hoping that he hadn't made a complete ass of himself.

"As long as I get the bed." House raised his brows. "I am the cripple here remember."

"I'm injured! I can't sleep on the couch, not in my condition."

House got up purposefully. "Guess we'll both have to take the bed then."

"Well I can't lie on my side or my front and I snore when I lie on my back. So no trying to smother me with a pillow or rolling me over." Wilson followed House towards the bedroom.

"So many rules and regulations. I can see why your wives bailed on you." House threw off his jacket and climbed into the right hand side of the bed.

Wilson stared venomously, hands on hips, before climbing in the left side of the bed.

"And no petting. I'm guessing this is how it started with your marriages. Invite them over, have a little chat before pouncing on them in the bedroom. Well I'm not falling for that."

Wilson angrily pulled at the duvet, hoping to grab a decent portion before House took it all. Through gritted teeth he bid House goodnight and flipped off the table lamp.

* * *

House woke up in an empty bed and by the feeling of the cold sheets next to him, it had been empty a while.

"Wilson?" No answer. House moaned before manoeuvring himself out of the unfamiliar bed. He limped his way into the living room and found Wilson staring at the TV screen. "Wilson. What are you doing? It's six thirty."

"I couldn't sleep." Wilson stared unmoved at the screen.

"How long have you been awake?" House moved himself around the front of the couch to distract Wilson's intense gaze.

"About an hour."

House kept silent, hoping that he was going to get more than a quickly mumbled, monotonous answer that he had just been given. But Wilson's mouth stayed firmly shut. _Time to try another tact_. "What are you watching?" House plopped down next to Wilson.

"I have no idea. Just whatever was on."

House nodded warily. Normally Wilson would take advantage of such an open question, describe what he was watching, who was in it and what other things the people he was watching had been in previously. House watched as Wilson bobbed his leg up and down, his hands sat limply between his legs. "Wilson. Are you going to tell me what it wrong or am I just going to keep having to ask these boring damn questions?"

Wilson licked his lips before rubbing his eye. "I thought a bit of TV might help me go to sleep. What's wrong with that?"

"You don't even know what's on the TV so how can you be watching it?"

Wilson clenched his eyes shut. "God dammit House! I just wanted something to distract myself."

"From what? There's nothing to distract yourself from."

Silence. That's all House got in return. No answer, just silence.

Wilson slowly rose from the couch and wandered back into the bedroom, leaving House dumbstruck in the living room.

Silence was all House got the next morning. Wilson nodded acknowledging his friend's presence but apart from that, and a decent cup of coffee, House and Wilson did not exchange any words. That was until House went to leave for work.

"House." Wilson stood, hands on hips and gently scuffing his foot off the floor.

House curtly gave a nod of the head.

"Sorry about last night." Wilson cleared his throat. "Sorry for being a jerk. I'm just a bit-" Wilson stuck his head in his hands and grumbled. "Yeah...I'm sorry." _Please don't go._ The nervous neck rubbing made itself known. "Could you stay tonight?"

House looked in disbelief. Wilson wanted him to stay _again_ even after the awkwardness of last night. The look in Wilson's eyes told House that there was more to this than a friend who needed some company but now was not the time to press. He needed to get to work and see if there was any cases to stem the tedious boredom that he been experiencing the past couple of days. "Sure. I'll see you later Wilson."

Wilson breathed a huge sigh of relief as House closed the door behind him. He wasn't going to be alone. House was coming back.

* * *

House made himself comfortable at Wilson's apartment for the next three consecutive evenings. A takeaway followed by an three hours of bad TV and beer was the way they conducted their evenings.

But House felt something was still...off. Wilson was quieter then usual, more subdued, their conversations were less animated. For once, House actually missed the philosophical lectures and the amusing way in which Wilson's voice would squeak higher whenever he got angry or vehemently disagreed with something that House had said.

There were also periods in conversation where Wilson mind would seemingly go elsewhere. His eyes would glaze over and his mouth would drop open ever so slightly. The first time it happened House had to shout Wilson's name five times before his friend noticed him before replying with a gormless 'what?' and a shudder of the head. Although now a simple clap of the hands would suffice.

House squinted as he sat drinking the cup of coffee Wilson had so diligently made him. He watched his friend scurry round the kitchen, cleaning the work tops, scrubbing the oven, even though it hadn't even been used, and washing the dirty mugs in the sink.

"Will you stop cleaning? It's ten thirty!" House bellowed to Wilson in the kitchen.

"What?" Wilson span round. "Oh. Sorry." He chucked his cloth onto the bench and took his seat in the living room.

House took another sip of his coffee. "I'm gonna go." He placed the mug down.

Wilson got up immediately and protested. "You can't go."

"I pay for my apartment so I really should get my moneys worth. Plus your bed is way too soft."

"B-b-but um...you can't." Wilson stepped around the couch to face House.

"I can and I will. You'll be fine. You don't need me here watching you sleep. Plus I need some alone time, if you know what I mean."

_Please don't go. Please don't _go. Wilson pleaded inside his head. Pleaded for House to hear his silent and desperate cries. But his brain wasn't engaged with his mouth as he found himself saying, "Sure."

"I'll come over tomorrow night and I'll bring the beer." House grabbed his jacket and opened Wilson's door. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye House." The door closed.

Wilson tried to fight the awful swirling sensation that was welling up inside his stomach. He didn't want to vomit in fear of opening his stitches but his determination wasn't enough. Gagging, he ran to his bathroom and holding his injured torso, he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He wiped away the acidic liquid that had made its way onto his lips, reached out and flushed the toilet. His stitches hadn't popped much to his relief but that relief was short-lived as he felt another wave of nausea wash over him and again he vomited.

Eventually, Wilson managed to stagger onto his feet and wash his face and hands in the sink. He glanced into his bathroom mirror and was faced with a weary looking man. Hair unwashed in days, dark rings curving around a pair of dull, emotionless brown eyes, and a mouth etched into a permanent straight line.

Wilson left the bathroom and lay himself down on his bed. He wouldn't sleep tonight nor the next night. He wouldn't sleep until something changed. Until that face he kept seeing in the darkness went away and left him in peace. He wouldn't sleep until then.

He placed his hands over his face before breaking down. His small and gasping sobs, breaking the silence in his apartment.

* * *

_A/N I apologise for the somewhat morose ending there. But as usual...more to come and reviews= biscuits_

_**I'm Not Working**- Manic Street Preachers _©_ 1998- This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours  
_


	7. I Just Don't Know Anymore

_A/N New modem means reliable internet. Hooray for that._

_As usual read and enjoy. A review would also be nice. _

* * *

Wilson gently massaged his pounding temples before taking an aspirin to calm the throb that was coursing through his head. He headed to the bathroom to clean himself up. His hair hadn't been washed since he came home from the hospital and the grease from days of being unwashed had left his hair slimy and unkempt. He would usually be disgusted with himself for letting it get into that sort of state but in this precise moment in time he really didn't give a damn.

Wilson got to the bathroom door before shrugging, turning around and seeking solace on his couch, where he had been sleeping and spending most of his time for the past two days. Since House had left the other morning, Wilson hadn't slept in his bed, instead he had made himself comfortable in the living room. His bedroom was too dark, too quiet. The solid door of his bedroom would block out any noise from anywhere making every too quiet and the side lamp in his bedroom was hazy at best.

He needed a place where it was light enough for him to sleep but not be kept awake and where the noise of his TV drowned out the noise of outside so he wasn't constantly straining to hear the tiny clicks and steps from outside and wondering if someone was trying to break in.

Sleeping on the couch had been a mild success. He had finally gotten some sleep but it was only a couple of hours at a time and he had yet still to experience a full deep sleep that he was so fond of before hand. He was still waking up drenched in cold sweat and he was still seeing that face, that awful blur complete with dark eyes and a sloppy grin, every time he tried to sleep.

But at least he was sleeping. Kind of. Sort of.

* * *

House sat reclining back on his chair, flicking an elastic band between his fingers, hoping for inspiration on his latest case. He had a patient who was having seizures for no apparent reason and it was getting on his nerves. Not just for the fact that he couldn't find the answer but also the constant beeping on his pager telling him his patient was having yet another seizure.

He had Foreman doing another MRI to make sure they had missed nothing and Taub and Thirteen were off re-running the blood work.

House noted the gentle opening and closing of his glass door and a flash of red out the corner of his eye. He scrunched both eyes shut. "Wait a minute. Let me guess. Water bra or push-up bra?" He tapped his chin. "You only wear red when you have a meeting to give the impression you are some hard-assed spunky female. Push-up bras you wear when you want to distract men at meetings. So I am guessing the push-up bra due to that _enormous _cleavage that will burst into my eye line." He opened his eyes. "Oh my god!" House covered his eyes with his hands.

"Wrong." Cuddy gave a self-satisfied smile. "It's just a regular old bra. I see you haven't discovered the mystery behind your seizing patient."

"Nope. But I'll get there eventually. Just need to drill a hole in his head and pop out the problem."

"What? You're not drilling a hole in a patient's head when you don't know what you're looking for!"

House flicked the elastic band into Cuddy's cleavage. "Goal!"

Agitated, she pulled the band out and threw back at House. "You are not drilling that guy's head."

House tutted loudly. "Fine. I'll do it when you're not looking."

Cuddy glared. "Stop being a pain in the ass." She stuck a hand on her hip. "How's Wilson? I haven't had a chance to see him with Rachel's sitter being ill."

"I don't know." House tossed the elastic band into the bin.

"You don't know? You haven't seen him?" Cuddy looked at House quizzically.

"I saw him a couple of days ago but I've been busy saving this guy. You know, our patient. The guy who's dying."

"Wilson needs your support House. He needs his friend right now."

"Well thank you for your sage words and pointless advice." House pushed himself up on his chair and leaned on his desk. "Can I do my job now? You're always going on how we shouldn't kill patients in this place."

Cuddy sighed. "Fine. But go and see him." With that, she turned and left the office.

A pang of guilt made its presence known. Seeing Wilson had slipped House's mind since he received the case at work. He expected to see Wilson striding down the hall towards his office, or peeking his head around the glass door, maybe even sitting and chewing on some rancid salad in the cafeteria or heading towards the Oncology ward. The fact that Wilson wasn't at work and hadn't been at work for a couple of weeks was something House had still not gotten used to.

House told himself he would go and see Wilson tonight. House hoped his good friend would look and seem in a better state than he was a couple of days ago. Oserving Wilson so tetchy and desperate for his company was odd and unnerving but House had assured himself that Wilson just needed time to settle back into being at home. But now those assurances were beginning to waver.

Cuddy was right and House begrudgingly acknowledged that in his mind. He should have visited Wilson in the past couple of days and Wilson did need him to be there.

House groaned loudly. He hated it when Cuddy was right.

* * *

House rapped loudly on Wilson's door for the third time. "Wilson. It's House. Open the door."

No answer.

House rapped again, this time with the bottom end of his cane. "Wilson."

Again, no answer. House flipped out his cellphone and called Wilson's apartment. He put his ear to the door and listened to the gentle ring that reverberated around the apartment.

Nobody picked up the phone so House left a message. "Wilson. Open the damn door. I know you're there." House waiting for a few minutes before resigning himself to the obvious fact that Wilson wasn't there.

_Where the hell is he?_ House tried the last roll of the dice and called Wilson's cell.

After a few tense rings through the receiver, there was action on the other end.

"Hello." The voice was tired and laboured but there was no doubt about who the voice belonged to.

"Wilson. It's House."

"Oh. Hey."

Wilson did not sound pleased to be talking to House at all. "Where the hell are you? I'm at your apartment and you're not here."

Wilson cleared his throat audibly. "No I'm not there."

"No shit. Where are you?" House furrowed his brows

"Work."

House paused, just making sure he had heard Wilson correctly. "Work? Wilson it's seven thirty. Why are you at work?"

"No reason."

"You shouldn't even be at work. Does Cuddy know you're there?"

"Why would she know?"

House sighed. The conversation was going nowhere and he was concerned enough to warrant a visit back to work to see if he could sniff out James Wilson. "I'm coming. Don't go anywhere."

"Okay." With a confused shake of the head, House stuffed his cellphone back into his pocket and headed out to get on his motorcycle.

_What the hell is he doing at work?_ House had no idea what was going on. Wilson and his actions were usually so boring and predictable but this, this was just weird. His voice, the demeanour he projected down the phone was just strange. Why the hell would he be at work in his state? And what could he possibly be doing there?

Cuddy had told Wilson he had as much time off as he needed to take. It had only been a couple of weeks. Surely he wasn't that desperate to get back to work.

House revved up the engine on his motorcycle before speeding off in the direction of the hospital.

* * *

House spotted Wilson's Volvo parked at an awkward angle near the entrance to the hospital and proceeded to pull his motorcycle up along side.

With his helmet tucked under his arm, her limped his way towards the elevator and then to the door of Wilson's office.

Unlike most office doors, Wilson's door was not made of glass so House couldn't see whether or not his friend had took his advice and stayed put or if he had left already. A quick twist of the doorknob would tell House what he needed to know.

A gentle click and Wilson's door opened. He was here. Wilson was very particular about his door being locked when he wasn't around.

The familiar sight of Wilson scribbling on seemingly endless amounts of paper greeted House when he pushed open the door to the office.

Wilson didn't look up from his paperwork; he chose to carry on, ignoring the fact House had just came through the door.

"Wilson." House noted the oncologist's pale complexion, the lines around his eyes representing lost sleep and exhaustion, and the lank, greasy hair that flopped down into Wilson's eyes.

"Mm-mm." Wilson's tongue poked out the side of his mouth as his tried to stick a label onto the front of a folder that lay on his desk.

House slammed his cane down onto the desk, sending several pieces of paper flying into the air. "Wilson. What are you doing here?"

"I'm working." Wilson's bloodshot eyes met House before he bowed his head to write once more.

House grasped the pen out of Wilson's hand. "You're not meant to be here. You're meant to be at home."

Wilson rubbed his eyes before holding out his hand. "Give me the pen."

"You look like crap. You need to go home."

Wilson heavily sighed. "Give me the pen."

"Go home." House held the pen up in the air out of Wilson's reach.

"Give me the pen." Wilson clenched his jaw.

"Go. Home."

"Just give me the fucking pen!" The words came laced with anger and frustration as Wilson slammed his fist onto the desk.

House stood still in complete shock. Wilson rarely swore. It was a rarity, usually spared until he was very drunk or very angry. But this outburst had come from nowhere.

House slowly handed the pen to Wilson, who swiftly took it from his grasp.

"Thank you." Wilson sat back in his chair with pen in hand.

"You shouldn't be here." House edged back from Wilson's desk.

"Why not? I've got nothing better to do besides sit on my couch."

"You're meant to be recovering. You do realise you were stabbed two weeks ago. Usually people take time off work for those sorts of things."

Wilson ran a hand through his limp hair. "I'm fine House. Really."

"No you're not. You should be at home."

"And how the fuck would you know! You've haven't seen me in nearly three days! I've been stuck in my apartment on my own for three days so excuse me for being bored."

"Fine. I will come over tomorrow. I'll bring some food. We can watch some crappy TV."

Wilson dropped his head. "That's not just it."

"What? What 'it'?"

Wilson waved his hand, feeling like he had said too much. "Nothing. Nothing. It doesn't matter."

House threw his hands in the air. "You're not making any sense. What do you want me to do? Or know?"

"Nothing! I just said. Now leave me alone." Wilson leaned forward and stuck his head in his hands.

"I'm not leaving until you promise to go home first. Like I have said about a billion times. You. Should. Not. Be. Here." House flopped down onto the black leather couch in the office to make himself comfortable.

Wilson grumbled under his breath before admitting defeat. "Fine. You win. I'm going home." Wilson grabbed his jacket and headed out the door.

"Wilson."

The oncologist stopped at the door and turned. "What?"

"You okay?"

Wilson licked his lips before answering. "Yeah. I'm okay." He turned away and headed towards the elevator.

House sat picking at the couch. Wilson said he was okay but House knew better. He wasn't okay. If Wilson was okay he wouldn't have snapped, he wouldn't have swore and he wouldn't have been here in the first place.

Wilson was not okay.

House sighed and lolled his head back onto the top of the couch.

* * *

_A/N More to come... Hope you enjoyed._ :)

**_Black Star_**_- Radiohead_ _© 1995 The Bends_


	8. Ashamed Of Things I've Been Put Through

_A/N Time on my hands means new chapter for all you nice readers (if there are any) out there. As usual enjoy and as usual a review would be nice._

* * *

The pain seared through his body, giving Wilson the impression that somebody was literally ripping his body apart like it was a flimsy rag. He felt every twitch of the blade that was seemingly puncturing his body. The twist and turn of serrated metal in his flesh made his whole body squirm and his face tightened into a strain and a grimace.

Wilson opened his eyes- at least he thought he did. He looked down and padded his stomach, discovering an expanding stain of crimson red seeping its way through his t-shirt. He pulled his hand back up and found it dripping with his own blood.

_What the hell?_

He looked up into the distance. Darkness. Everything was pitch black.

He stumbled forward, clutching his stained but strangely painless side until he reached a small source of light. From there he spotted someone to the to left, a silhouette. The silhouette turned and ran towards Wilson at an alarmingly speed.

Wilson didn't move, he merely squinted at the oncoming shape, trying to make out who it was. Then he spotted a glint, a flash of light reflecting in his direction. He'd seen that glint before.

His eyes widened as the realization of what was to come hit Wilson like a train. He turned to run, with his follower only seconds behind, and discovered his was back in the alleyway. The dark, dingy and piss-soaked alleyway where he had nearly died.

_Shit._

Wilson ran up the alleyway determined to get to the street at the end of it where he could run out and scream for help.

He was still bleeding; he could hear the drip-drip of blood falling onto his shoes as he ran. Turning his head to see where his stalker was, he saw that the man was no closer but no further away either. Wilson dipped his head, gritted his teeth and bashed his feet one in front of the other hoping to gain as much speed as possible.

_Come on. Come on._

He wasn't going anywhere. A quizzical look spread across Wilson's face as he observed the street was no nearer to him than it was before. He kept running willing himself on towards the street but he was moving. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't getting any closer to safety.

_Fuck_.

Wilson stopped running before an arm grabbed him from behind and dragged him backwards. The smell of gasoline and sweat filled his nostrils as he was pulled backwards into the alley, struggling against the tight grip that restricted his throat.

He was span round and thrown back against the grubby brick wall. His follower brandished that all-to-familiar glint and stepped out of the darkness.

It was that face. The hollow set black eyes and the devilish grin faced Wilson once again. A small cackle escaped the man's lips before he shot out his arm and grabbed Wilson by the throat.

Wilson spluttered and clawed madly at the hand around his neck. He sobbed for the man to let him go but was greeted with a slow, sadistic shake of the head. The man merely smirked before forcing the weapon into Wilson's stomach.

A scream echoed around Wilson's apartment before he shocked himself awake. He was on the floor for some inexplicable reason, bolt straight and with his arms by his sides. As he gently lifted his head, beads of sweat dripped down the side of his ears and his hands gently trembled.

He was home. Nothing had happened. He was fine.

Wilson gave an audible sigh before attempting to stand himself up. He wavered as his jelly-like legs threatened to buckle under his weight but using the couch as a prop he managed to get himself up off the floor.

A pool of liquid came onto his hand as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead. Wilson took some deep breaths to compose himself but almost jumped out of his skin when there was a sharp knock at the door.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, wondering if he looked presentable enough to answer the door. "W-w-w-who is it?"

"It's House. I came over like I promised."

Wilson had forgot all about House coming over. Other things had been on his mind. "Oh. Hold on." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater making sure to get most of the sweat off of his face.

A barbed pain shot through Wilson's stomach just as he was about to open the door to let House in. He inhaled through his teeth and ignored the pain, he was sure he had just forgot to take his medication.

Opening the door, Wilson found a somewhat chirpy looking House carrying a white plastic bag full of beer, juice and he was sure he could spot a porn magazine stuffed in at the side. Wilson managed to crack a welcoming smile.

House merely nodded. "Told you I would-" House stalled mid-sentence and his eyes looked down to where Wilson's hand was clutching. "Wilson. You're bleeding."

Wilson wiped his upper lip. He was beginning to sweat again and felt himself become unsteady on his own feet. He gently blinked as he slurred "What?"

House rushed to Wilson and held him up by his arm. "What the hell did you do?"

"I-I can't r-r-remember." Wilson's head lolled forward.

"Hey! Don't pass out on me again. You've popped your stitches. I need to get you to the hospital." House heaved the trembling body of the surprisingly heavy Wilson and led his friend towards the door.

"Where are w-w-we going?" Wilson tried to walk alongside but could only manage a meagre stagger as House led him by the arm towards the car.

"Stop talking and keep walking." House gruffly rebutted.

_What the hell had he done? What the hell was going on?_ House looked his friend up and down after he clambered into the driver's seat of his shabby car. Wilson looked sick. House had guessed that he hadn't been sleeping or eating properly and, by the looks of his apartment, House gathered Wilson hadn't been taking care of himself or the apartment. Wilson was always a neat freak so much so that he would organise his ties in alphabetical order of colour, so to see the apartment in that mess was a shock.

House cursed as he turned the ignition and sent the car into life. He should have been more observant, made more of an effort. He angrily clicked the car into 'drive' before speeding through the darkened streets of Princeton.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" Cuddy tapped House on the head with a flimsy plastic file. "You finished an hour ago."

House didn't stir or move to face Cuddy. "Wilson ripped his stitches."

"What?" Cuddy walked round to catch House's gaze. "How did he do that?"

House rubbed his cane between the palms of his hands. "Do I look like I know?"

Cuddy did the maths in her head. _Aggressively sarcastic House+ pensive looking House= Worried House_.

"I just went round for some beers and he answered the door looking like crap. I brought him here. End of. Now go and do what Deans do and leave me alone."

Cuddy held her hands up in defeat before heading out to the nurse's station and placing the file in wire tray.

House gently placed his forehead on the top of his cane and growled under his breath.

Cuddy had been right. Wilson did need support and he needed his friend. House cursed himself for not giving that support. Though he wasn't renowned for it, he thought at least when the crucial time came he would be able to help Wilson in whatever shit situation he was in. Yet his best friend had experienced something that nobody should have to experience and, while he had been the one who had called the ambulance, House knew he hadn't supported Wilson enough since.

"Hey." The syrupy sweet tone of Cameron's voice met House's ears much to his dismay. He wasn't in the mood for her corny and caring sound bites.

He gave a curt "Hi" before letting Cameron continue.

"He's fine. He only popped a few at the top but it was enough to cause some bleeding. He seems okay now, just a little dazed I think."

"Okay." House stood up and headed off to find Wilson.

Cameron stopped him in his tracks. "Is he okay?"

"Oh yeah. He's just fine."

Cameron grimaced at House's nonchalance. "Seriously. He looks like he hasn't slept or washed properly for that matter."

"He's going for the all natural look this season."

Cameron rolled her eyes. "He started crying."

"What?" That got House's attention.

Cameron sympathetically titled her head. "He started crying when I was replacing his stitches."

House guffawed. "You were probably hurting him. Wilson cries when he stubs his toe."

"He was anaesthetised. He wouldn't have felt anything House. He was asleep."

House was stuck for words. Cameron's piercing eyes stared back at him waiting to judge and ready to pounce on what he was about to say. "I'll talk to him." House was satisfied that answer would satiate Cameron for now.

Cameron nodded before swiftly turning and headed back to the A&E.

* * *

House found Wilson looking groggy and dozy-eyed with clean new dressings on his wounded torso. House took a seat on the bed opposite and dumped his cane on the pillow.

Wilson groaned as he pushed himself upright in his bed. "Wow I'm tired."

"I'm not surprised. When is the last time you had a decent nights sleep?" House laced his fingers and leant forward to rest on his knees.

Wilson chuckled. "I can't remember."

House tried to form the words he was about to say carefully in his head. But he couldn't quite make it seem not cliché. He jumbled words around before finally settling with the predictable "Do you want to talk about?" House's jaw clenched as the words tumbled out; he hated being cliché.

"Talk about what?" Wilson seemed genuinely bemused.

"What happened tonight." He lightly scratched his scalp. "And what happened yesterday."

Wilson shifted uncomfortably in his spot before gently shaking his head. "Nothing to talk about. I guess I was reaching up for something and I ripped my stitches."

House knew Wilson was lying as soon as Wilson averted his gaze. Years of learning poker tells had taught House that one. "Come on Wilson. Don't try and fob me off with that."

"I don't know alright! I woke up. I heard you knock at the door. I answered. That was it. Really." Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah right. What did you do in your sleep that made you rip your stitches?"

"I don't know House! I don't know. I guess I had a bad dream or something." Wilson _knew_ he had had a bad dream but he wasn't going to tell House that. He would just mock him.

"Cameron said you cried when you were asleep." House watched as Wilson's head shot up from its bowed position. "What was that about?"

Wilson chewed his lip. "I don't remember." He didn't remember. He was out cold when the alleged incident happened.

"People don't cry for no reason. Even soft people like yourself who cry at While You Were Sleeping have a reason for it. So spill."

"I've told you I don't remember. Will you just drop it?" Wilson gently flopped back in his bed. He was too tired to fight, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and go to sleep without having to explain himself.

But House kept probing. "You told me something was wrong last night in your office. Then you didn't tell me what that thing was. You expect to just drop it?"

"I expect you to respect my space just a little bit. I know that's difficult for you being an ass and all but I thought maybe, with the situation being what it is, that you would try your best to help me with my needs instead of focusing on your own all the damn time."

"My needs? What are you talking about? I came over tonight because you asked me to. You told me I wasn't seeing you enough, that I wasn't supporting you. Now you're telling me you want space and you don't want me to come over." House rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"That's not what I am saying." Wilson placed his hands over his face.

"Well it sure sounds like it from my side." House hopped off the bed and grabbed his cane. "I don't know what you want from me here."

Wilson massaged his forehead to qualm the hot anger that he felt bubbling up behind. "Just get out."

"What?"

Wilson's hand burst away from his face. "I said get out!"

Two nurses outside turned to see what the fuss was about before carrying on there way. House nodded and limped away from Wilson's bed, leaving his friend crushed and confused.

House limped angrily towards Cuddy's office, where he could see his boss hurriedly finishing the evening's paperwork. He was going to have to take this into his own hands.

* * *

_A/N Ooooo... and there you go. Hope you enjoyed. :D_

_**Isolation**- Joy Division © 1980 Closer_


	9. But I Don't Ask Your Help

_A/N Apologies for the gap in updates. Life has been hectic.. I've just graduated, lots of birthdays, work and I am struggling through a grim cold. So yes...I'm sorry. But I thought I should give this another update while I sit here sucking menthol sweets and blowing into tissues. Again thank you for the reviews and to the subscribers. _

* * *

House pushed the door to Cuddy's office open with intent before stopping a few feet away from where she sat behind her coffee coloured desk.

She carried on scribbling away, trying her best to ignore the noise House was making by tapping the end of his cane on the floor. "No you can't."

"You don't even know what I was going to ask."

Cuddy put down her pen and clasped her hands together. "You only ever disturb me for a set number of reasons. You've either came to insult my breasts, ass, and my ability as a doctor. Or you want to do something wildly off the wall and you want my backing. Or you've done something that has offended a member of staff or a patient and you want to get here before they do. Take your pick." She opened her hands and cupped her face.

House winced before inhaling a large breath. "Your breasts look ludicrous in your bra. This is deliberate attempt to deflect from your humongous ass which has grown substantially since you stopped being a proper doctor. I want to drill into my patient's head to alleviate what we real doctors call inter-cranial pressure. But..." House mocked surprise "...I've done that already and his mom was _not _happy."

Cuddy, unsure whether House was lying or being truthful, merely gave a sarcastic smile before picking up her pen to continue writing.

House took a step forward. "We need to keep Wilson here."

Cuddy stopped. "Why? Cameron has gave him the all clear. He can be discharged in a few hours."

"I know that. I just think keeping him here is better."

"I get it. You feel bad about his situation but leaving him here is not going to make it better. Wilson doesn't need to be in a hospital especially a one he nearly died in. He wants to be at home, trying to normalise things. That includes you, bad TV and take out meals."

House rolled his eyes. "I've tried that. He either gets mad or wants me to leave." House scratched his chin. "Now I'm going to move him upstairs. This is not an autocracy you know." He held two fingers aloft. "Power to the people man."

"House!" Cuddy bellowed at the departing doctor. "You can't keep him here against his will. He doesn't need to be here and I doubt he wants to be here."

"I doubt he doesn't want to be here." House poked out his tongue.

"Have you asked him?" Cuddy came around from the back of the desk and perched herself on the front of it.

"No. But I know Wilson." House grabbed for the door handle.

"Stop trying to control him. He doesn't need that. He needs you just to be there to make things normal. Wheeling him around a hospital is not going to do that."

"Trust you to ruin this. You said I should help him." House poked his cane at Cuddy. "So that's what I'm doing."

"I'm coming with you." Cuddy strutted towards House purposefully. "I want to make sure you're not going to drug him or use some other illegal method you are dreaming up inside your head."

House groaned and opened the door, letting Cuddy barge past out of her office. "A thank you wouldn't have gone a miss. Neither would your ass."

He closed the door behind him and followed Cuddy, observing the unamused looks drawn on the nurse's faces. He gave a perverted smile and declared, "I hit that."

* * *

Wilson was drifting off before he was rudely disturbed by the clicking heels of his boss followed by the familiar, gentle thud of a cane hitting the floor. He could hear the distant fuzz of their bickering voices but couldn't quite make out what they were saying. His eyes were too heavy to open and he couldn't be bothered to get caught in the middle of another verbal jousting between the two of them.

Wilson kept his eyes firmly shut. The sedative he had been administered should help him sleep through the outside disturbance. He could here both of them call his name over and over again. Wilson clenched his jaw loosely.

W_hy can't they just leave me alone? _

He felt a gentle prod on his side, which he knew to be House's cane.

_Please leave me alone. _

"He's out." Wilson made out the final utterance before they both left, pulling across the curtain behind them.

Wilson let out a deep breath when he was sure they had both gone. A mix of relief and pleasure diffused through his body.

He was glad to be alone but at the same time he knew he wasn't completely alone. There were nurses and doctors here to keep him safe and well, to make sure he was okay. He wouldn't have to worry about every little noise outside his apartment or curtain flutters in his bedroom.

No. Here he would be fine. Absolutely fine.

He smiled a gentle smile before letting himself ease into a comforting sleep.

* * *

Cameron had been as fast as possible in trying to get to House's office. He had paged her more than once in the space of ten minutes meaning it was somewhat urgent. She expected to see House and his team bashing out a differential with their brows furrowed and House standing over them with marker in hand.

But House's team weren't there. It was just House sitting in his chair tossing a large tennis ball in the air with Cuddy standing, hands on hips, looking reasonably pissed off.

She was beckoned in by House with a subtle wave of his cane. "You paged me."

"Yes I did. Now get yourself in here."

Cameron sheepishly approached House's desk, aware of Cuddy staring at her every move.

House clapped his hands together making both women jump on the spot. "Wilson. I think he should stay. Cold hearted robot boss thinks he should be discharged. We need an impartial opinion and since you are so moral and ethical that you actually respect Cuddy but at the same time you are obviously in love with me, we think you are the perfect candidate."

Cameron gawped at Cuddy, who merely shrugged in response. "He's right. Foreman and Chase are too pig headed, judgemental and stubborn."

Cameron nodded slowly. "Um...I see no medical reason why he should be kept here."

"No. No. What you're meant to say is 'Yes Dr House. There is a medical reason why he should be kept here.'You're not meant to side with the enemy. Didn't I teach you anything when I was your boss?" House threw his head back in a fit of disgust.

"Shut up House." Cuddy turned her attention to Cameron. "So you think Wilson is fine to be discharged?"

"Yeah. I checked him this morning and he seemed fine."

House stuck up a finger. "Aha! He _seemed_ fine. Doesn't mean he _was _fine."

Cuddy sighed. "You can't base your argument around semantics. Cameron said he was fine. Cameron is a good doctor so I will take her opinion. I assume you will too as you taught her how to be a good doctor." Cuddy smiled smugly.

"She's a terrible doctor." House rubbed his eyes.

Cameron's jaw dropped open. "What?"

"You really don't know when to play along do you." House turned to Cuddy. "See. She can't even tell when I'm lying. How would she notice if Wilson was lying?"

Cuddy gave Cameron a defeated glance and shook her head. "Fine. Go and talk to Wilson and see if he's okay. _Again_."

Cameron turned and left the room, leaving House and Cuddy in the same stand-off positions as they were before she entered.

"Cameron said he was fine."

"Cameron also didn't tell you a crucial piece of information." House began balancing the ball on the end of his cane.

"And..."

House stared opened eyed.

"You can't just say that and not tell me. I'm his boss."

"Cameron caught him crying."

Cuddy blinked. "That's it? She was stitching him up. I'm pretty sure that hurts."

House shook his head. "He was anaesthetised. He shouldn't have felt anything."

"You want to keep Wilson in hospital purely because he cried in his sleep?"

"Yes."

"No. This is a stretch even for you."

* * *

Wilson opened his eyes and was greeted with the blurry outline of Cameron's face. He groaned at the bright light that hit his eyes and covered them with his arm.

"Cuddy told me to come down and see how you were doing before you were discharged."

Wilson gulped hard and nodded his head. He didn't want to be discharged, he just got the best night's sleep he had had in over two weeks. _Please don't let me go._

"So how you feeling?"

_Scared shitless_. "I'm okay. Just a bit tired that's all." _Fuck_. No matter how hard Wilson tried he couldn't bring himself to admit that he really didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay, cocooned in the safety blanket that was this hospital and its staff.

He tried his best to plead covertly, painfully staring at Cameron hoping she would get the message but it was pointless. All she did was smile that patronising, condescending smile.

"Any discomfort or pain?"

"No. Not at all. Feels better than it did before." Wilson gratefully smiled.

"Great. Well I'll go and sort of the papers and we can get you out of here as soon as possible okay?"

Wilson nodded as Cameron whisked open the curtain and headed off to the desk. Pushing himself up on his bed he dropped his head and sunk it into his hands before gently pushing his hair out of his tired brown eyes.

He sniffed back hard to hold back the tears he could feel welling up.

Rain. Wilson sniffed. He could smell rain. That scent of a warm night mixed with rain mingled in his nostrils.

He looked around bemused, trying to locate where the smell was coming from. Had a cleaner left an old bucket of water out somewhere? Did someone have wet shoes? He frantically looked around his bed for the source but saw nothing.

Wilson's almost choked on thin air when he caught a glance at the person who was standing at the corner of the corridor.

The familiar figure stood, swathed in black, twiddling the blade in between the thumb and index finger on his other hand. He smiled and winked in Wilson direction before storming towards him, holding the blade above his head.

In a frenetic movement of limbs, Wilson hopped up off his bed and grabbed the stand holding his IV fluids.

"You stay away from me!" Patients yelped in fear as Wilson violently swung the stand in the direction of the corridor.

"Page Dr House now!" Cameron stood to the side and tried to grab Wilson's attention. "Wilson! It's Cameron. Put that down before you hurt somebody.!" She reached out to grab the stand from Wilson's grasp but he swung it the other way and flung a cart full of syringes onto the floor.

All Wilson could hear was rain beating down on wet ground. He wasn't in the hospital any more, he was in the street. The man was still cackling as he came ever closer in spite of Wilson's attempts to warn him off. "I'll fucking kill you! Why won't you leave me alone?!"

The man merely licked his lips, like a lion who has discovered fresh flesh to devour.

"Please leave me alone?" Wilson strength was decreasing with every swing he took. He couldn't fend of the man much longer and in this knowledge he began to sob. "I'm sorry."

Wilson began backing off. "I don't know what I've gotta do! Please leave me alone. I'm begging you."

Wilson jumped at the touch of a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned slowly to see Cameron, her face drenched with fear and alarm.

_What the hell?_

"Wilson. Put it down." He felt Cameron gently push the stand down onto the ground before eventually removing it from his hands.

He looked around to find himself in the hospital with patients staring at him in horror. He felt Cameron place a hand on his back before slinging his arm over her shoulders.

Everything began blurring into one. The voices and gasps of patients were becoming ever quieter. His body felt increasingly light. Then everything went black.

* * *

House and Cuddy both made it down to the Emergency room to time to see Cameron propping up a sedated Wilson.

The floor was littered with surgical gloves, paper and syringes and one patient had been scared so badly that they had urinated themselves.

She stepped forward into the mess. "What happened?"

"He had an hallucination. He was fine and then he got up swinging his IV stand around. He keep telling somebody to leave him alone. I don't know who he was talking to."

Cuddy rubbed her forehead. "Is anybody injured?"

"No. Just a few who are a bit shaken." She gently pulled a sheet over Wilson. "I've gave him a sedative. Should wear off in a couple of hours."

Cuddy muttered under her breath before saying thank you and heading back towards the corridor where House stood leaning on his cane.

"So now do you think he is fine to be discharged?"

* * *

_A/N Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed. I am off to stick my head in a bowl of menthol. _

_**Sea Legs**__-Frank Turner _© _2008 _


	10. You Ask Whats Wrong, But What Can I Say

_A/N Gah! Apologies for gap in the update. Seriously busy time in Mooseland. But here it is. Hurrah! Hope you enjoy. Big thanks to **LoriB** and **micetea** who have kindly and diligently reviewed every chapter of this fic. Their loyalty is much appreciated. Cookies for you! _

* * *

House and Cuddy sat in tense silence trying to digest the scene they had just been presented with. Observing the chaos created by their friend and colleague's had proven House correct. While he was pleased with being proven right after opposition from his boss, the pleasure was short-lived as House remembered exactly who they were dealing with.

Wilson had been a raft of contradictions since the incident. One minute he is elated with House's presence, the next he is almost willing for House to leave with alarming aloofness. The constant flipping of Wilson's emotions towards him had left House equal parts confused and alarmed.

He had learned over the past fifteen years of friendship that Wilson was always in either one of two states of emotion. Usually, Wilson was in a state of calm and controlled worry. The purposeful gait and furrowed brows coupled with his soothing and sympathetic smile gave the impression of someone who was responsible and caring but also professional. It was Wilson's default and something he was very rarely out of.

The second was something House had only seen on a handful of occasions. The night they met, House's father's funeral, and one drink fuelled night where Wilson lost an arm wrestle to a woman, to be more precise. A state of seething and agitated anger which Wilson tried and sometimes failed to keep in check, resulting in two broken mirrors and a severely distorted pool cue.

House had gotten used to his friend being an emotional type of man and his friend's crying at sappy Julia Roberts' movies. But in the past few weeks something new had emerged. Something that was contradictory to Wilson's usual animated emotional style.

Wilson had become impassive in conversation.

House shook his head. Wilson and impassive in the same sentence was an oxymoron.

He looked at Cuddy who had taken up the same seated-staring-at-the-floor position that he had taken up only she had her head rested against her hand.

"You were right. I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." Cuddy brushed back her hair.

House shrugged. He didn't feel like rubbing his superiority in her face.

"Cameron moved him to a private room."

"I know. Obviously the curtained bed was doing nothing for him." House rubbed the cane between his hands sending it spinning in his palms.

"How did you know?" Cuddy rested her chin on her palm.

"What?"

"That something was wrong. I mean I didn't notice anything and Cameron didn't either." Cuddy sat, eyes inquisitively set.

"Little things. His apartment, just the way he has been with me and everybody else." House propped his chin on his cane before adding, "Oh and his hair."

"His hair?"

"Unwashed and unstyled. Very un-Wilson."

Cuddy smiled. The intricacies and subtleties of House and Wilson's relationship never ceased to amuse and amaze her.

House rose out his seat in preparation to leave. "Time to bother the Boy Wonder."

They both exchanged weak smiles before House left her office.

* * *

House stood over Wilson's bed watching his friend's serene expression. The sedative Cameron had administered was due to wear off any time soon and House knew this was a good time to talk to Wilson. Try to extract information and find out what was going on with him.

It had already been affirmed to House that something was off so now all there was to do was to find out what. Usually he would have worked it out in no time but his diagnostic abilities only worked that brilliantly in cases where emotion and attachment were not an issue for him. But in this case he couldn't help but get his mind fogged by his attachment to Wilson. It was almost impossible not to see past the patient.

House fumbled a pen out of his back pocket and wiped the back of his hand on his jeans. No marker, no board and no team on hand to help him. The back of his hand was the closest thing to write down on.

_Hallucination_

_Uncommunicative/Impassive_

_Withdrawn_

He ran out of room on his hand. "Uncommunicative was too long a word." House rolled his eyes and stuffed the pen back into his pocket. He held up his hand and focused on the words written down, rolling them around in his mind, trying to make sense of it.

He flicked his lip with his thumb. "It could be a number of things." He rubbed his face in frustration before his focus was disturbed from a shuffling in the bed before him.

Wilson groaned before sliding over onto his side. He yelped as he rolled over onto his stitched side. Hissing in air he drifted back onto his back and opened his eyes.

"Morning. Very early morning."

"Mm-mm." Wilson looked around confused at his changed surroundings. "I'm in a private room?"

House cleared his throat. _Does he not remember what happened? _"Um...There was... some....problems downstairs where you were. Cuddy thought you'd be better up here."

Wilson raised an eyebrow, disbelieving of House's suggestion.

"Really."

"Fine. Well the bed is more comfortable so I am not complaining." Wilson smiled. Part comfort and part relief at the fact he had managed to avoid being discharged and he had managed to get himself his own room somehow. He didn't understand why House was looking at him in such a concerned manner. "What's wrong?"

House didn't know whether to be truthful or not but he could see Wilson was already suspicious. He decided there was no point in lying to Wilson. "You don't remember last night at all?"

"I remember coming here with you and getting myself sorted out."

House slowly nodded. "You...um... you were moved up here because you had an hallucination." House watched as a pained expression crossed Wilson's face. "And you scared the other patients. Cameron had to give you a sedative."

Wilson's mouth dropped into a 'O' shape as the realization of what House was saying sunk in. He then flopped his head back onto the pillows and stared at the ceiling. He didn't remember that at all. Stuttering for his words, Wilson ran a hand through his hair. "I-I-I- um...don't remember that."

"Apparently you were screaming at someone to leave you alone. Do you remember that at all?"

Wilson shook his head. He didn't know what to say. Well, he did but he couldn't tell House that he felt like he was going crazy, that he wasn't sleeping and that he hadn't eaten a proper meal since he left hospital the first time round. So desperately he wanted to grab House by the shoulders, shake him and scream in his face that he couldn't take it any more. But he couldn't.

He would tell himself that House had his own problems and that he would just add to it by dumping his own issues onto House. It was more important to Wilson that House was fine, regardless of what stuff he himself might be going through at the same time. It had always been the way.

House noticed that Wilson eyes were glazed over. He gently prodded Wilson's shoulder and woke him from his daze. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine." Wilson pushed the creases out of his bed sheet with the palms of his hands.

"Why are you lying to me Wilson?"

"I'm not lying." Wilson defended.

"I may be a pain in the ass and a jerk but I'm not an idiot. People who are fine don't hallucinate and swing IV stands around the place."

"That was a one off. It must have been the anaesthetic." Wilson dropped his head determined not to get angry.

"Well I don't know if that was a one off because _you_ won't talk to me. You bitch to me about not talking about my problems and deflecting but you're just as guilty for it as I am."

Wilson growled and clenched his fists into tight balls determined to keep his fury in check. _How dare he come in here and tell me I'm a liar. Maybe if you was less of an sarcastic ass I could talk to you._ He glared at an anxious looking House who was awaiting his reply.

_'Talk to him'_ his mind chanted repeatedly. But at the same time a voice told him to '_shut up; you'll just embarrass yourself; he doesn't care.' _Wilson had experienced emotional ambivalence before but never this strong and this divisive.

_He doesn't understand._ Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose. House didn't understand. He never would understand so why try and make him. Wilson decided he didn't want to talk about, he just wanted to forget about it. He held up his palms. "You know what? I don't want to talk about it. I just want to move on okay. There is nothing wrong."

Wilson called it 'moving on', House called in denial. "Do you not trust me or something? I can keep a secret. Did you know Cuddy was a man?" House placed his hand over his mouth in mock embarrassment.

Wilson chuckled. "I do trust you just...there is nothing to trust you with. Something happened and I will deal with it." _Talk to him_. He gulped, hoping his calm approach at satiated House. Hoping was too weak a word, he was almost begging for House to drop it. Although asking House to drop something is like asking a dog to drop his bone.

"Can you smell that?" House sniffed.

"What?"

"The overwhelming scent of bull shit in the air. Come on Wilson. You can bullshit for America sometimes but I usually see through it. I have a radar for these sorts of things." House hung his cane onto the end of the bed and propped his legs onto the chair. "So since my radar is having a whale of time here I am going to stay until you tell what the hell is going on."

"Why are you doing this?"

House shrugged.

"Why do you have to keep pressing until you're satisfied? You couldn't give a damn if I'm fine, you just want to satisfy your own curiosity." Wilson tugged angrily at the crisp bed sheet.

"Usually yes. But in this case I actually give a damn. It's nice to see you think so little of me Wilson." House folded his arms.

"That's not what I meant. Stop twisting everything. You always do that."

"Well-"

Wilson cut House before he could get his words. "You know what, this isn't helping okay. Can you just leave me to get some sleep?"

House eyed Wilson curiously. He didn't particularly want to leave but Wilson was being strangely stubborn and he was right. This wasn't helping. Arguments weren't going to help. "Okay. I'll be back later." House hopped up and swiped his cane from the end of the bed before hobbling through the glass door and out of the room.

Wilson let out a heavy sigh. He had missed his chance to tell House everything but his single-mindedness had cost him the thing he wanted but at the same time he was relieved. Relieved at the fact House had stopped his onslaught. While Wilson wanted to get everything off his chest, at the same time he just wanted to curl up in a ball and be left alone.

House said he would be back and Wilson knew he would be and he didn't want to have to deal with it. He thought he was safe in the hospital but now all he could think about were the prying eyes and strained ears of his colleagues, whispering and gossiping about him, asking him probing questions that he didn't want to answer. Cameron and House were already on his back and Cuddy was also circling.

He wasn't safe here any more.

* * *

"I got nothing out of him." House tossed his giant tennis ball against the wall.

"You're worried about him." Cuddy paced quietly in front of House's desk.

"Of course I'm worried about him. He's a typical doctor. When there is something wrong they never speak up about it. Idiot."

"Don't be angry at him. I mean you're not the easiest person to talk to."

House tossed his ball onto the desk. "That's what he said. Well he implied it not so subtly. Has he talked to you?"

Cuddy titled her head. "No."

"Does he usually?"

"Sometimes. I mean not as much as he talks to you but sometimes."

"Well if all was well he would have told one of us _something_ by this point. Wilson doesn't clam up like he is doing at the moment."

Cuddy shrugged. "Maybe he just wants to forget it all."

House shook his head. "Wilson doesn't forget anything until he has over-analysed and talked it to death from every possible angle." House twisted his chair and looked at his watch. "What's the time? My watch has stopped again."

"Um..three thirty."

"I am going to give our star pupil another visit I think." He marched past Cuddy and out the door.

"House!"

He popped his head round the side of the door. "What?"

"Don't push him."

House nodded affirmatively before leaving and heading towards the elevator.

He had expected to hear the sound of light snoring when he got to Wilson's room but there was merely silence.

House poked his head into the room and noticed that Wilson's bed was empty. "Nurse!"

A small, petite brunette ran to House's side. "Yes?"

"Where's the patient?" House pointed his cane in the direction of the bed.

"I-I don't know."

"Well... don't just stand there. Get security on it!" House didn't mean to scare the hell out of the woman, who was obviously new at the job, but his fear could barely be repressed.

Wilson was gone.

* * *

_A/N 2 or 3 more chapters to come I think and this baby will be wrapped. Hope you enjoyed. Nice reviews are always welcome :)_

_**Nobody Hears**- Suicidal Tendencies ©1992_


	11. Things Get Clear When I Feel Free

_A/N Another chapter before I go on holiday. Just to address some issues an anonymous reviewer brought up (I would have PM'd back but being anonymous I can't do that). _

_1- House does indeed have great insight and this story does not say he is completely blind to the fact something is wrong. But I think his relationship with Wilson has the ability to emotionally fog that particular side of him. As already pointed on the show his great insight ability it somewhat attributed to his ability to be emotionally uninvolved with his patients. As we know the person he is most emotionally invested into is Wilson._

_2- As far as we have seen in the show it has mainly been House who has been the subject the physical tribulations whereas in this fic it is the other way round. We have never seen House deal with something of this magnitude with Wilson on the hurt side and himself in the periphery so this is just my take on it. _

_3- I don't think this fic portrays House as a complete asshole. I think he doesn't know what to do or where he stands with Wilson as Wilson is usually very predictable in his ways and words but this time he is somewhat OOC. More confused and bewildered than an asshole.  
_

_I hope that clears some of the stuff up. I mean one iffy review out of 30 isn't so bad. :) But thank you everyone else for the nice ones :) _

_Shortish chapter this one to set up the next couple. Oh and excuse my lack of geographical knowledge of New Jersey. I live on the other side of the ocean :)_

* * *

"When did the nurse last check on him?" Cuddy paced around her office, chewing her thumbnail.

"Two thirty. Well they that say anyway." House stood leaning against the door frame of his boss' office.

"So what's that, about an hour ago. He couldn't have gone very far in an hour in his condition. I mean he didn't have any clothes." Cuddy stopped pacing and perched herself on the edge of her desk.

House closed his eyes. "It's enough time for him to go back to his apartment and get some. He could have easily slipped out of one of the back exits. Hailed a cab back to his apartment."

"You think he's at his apartment?"

"Well he's either there or he is on his way there. I know Wilson has walked in the street without pants on but I don't think a dress is exactly his style." Well at least he didn't think it was. Although after the events of the past few weeks House didn't really know any more.

"Well what are we doing here? We need to find him now." Cuddy turned at grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair. She ushered House out of her office and they both headed into the hospital parking lot.

* * *

An empty apartment was what greeted House and Cuddy as they opened the door to Wilson's apartment. Their shoulders visibly dropped as the realised that their friend was not here at all.

House strolled into the bedroom and came out holding a lengthy piece of blue and white linen. He held it up in the air to catch Cuddy's eye. "Well we know he's been here. He left his hospital gown behind." He tossed it in the direction of his boss who caught it in her grasp.

"Where the hell has he gone? He doesn't go anywhere apart from here and the hospital as far as I know." Cuddy neatly folded the gown and stuffed it into her handbag.

"And my apartment but there is absolutely no reason for him to be there." House continued prodding the clothes that were sprawled across Wilson's bed.

"It's worth a try." Cuddy shrugged. She was out of any other ideas. "You really don't know anywhere else he would go?"

House wish he knew. I mean there were some places where he was sure Wilson would visit at any other time, Amber's grave for one, but this wasn't any other time. However, it was the best he had. He scratched his scalp before rubbing a hand across his chin. "There's Amber."

"You think he would go and visit Amber?"

House would usually find a logically explanation as to why Wilson would visit Amber but there was not logical explanation. It was a guess and guesses without a basis made House uncomfortable. He grimaced, unsure whether to waste time searching somewhere where House was pretty sure Wilson wouldn't be. "Honestly...no. It was just speculation."

Cuddy nodded and zipped up her handbag, catching the linen in the zip. "Come on. Let's go to your place."

* * *

Wilson hadn't driven up this road since he was 16. The air still had the same sweet odour like it did when he was a child. The skyline had changed, a few more houses had been built and there were fewer trees lacing the edge of the highway. But it still had the same warm atmosphere like it used to. He could see the sea several miles into the distance on his left and the boats, only seen in the distanct as white specks, were bobbing on the calm waves. He wasn't too far from his destination now, only a few miles left until he got there.

He flipped on the air conditioning in his car to cool his flushing body. He inhaled a deep breath as the cool breeze of salty sea air made its way through his nostrils.

Wilson's last holiday with his parents and his younger brother was spent here before Danny became ill. He and Danny had spent most of their week here skimming stones in the sea and seeing who could dig the biggest hole in the sand. Wilson had won after his brother had dug a mighty impressive hole only for the entire thing in collapse in on itself, burying Danny up to his head in sand, much to Wilson's amusement. Not content with his brother being up to his neck in sand, Wilson had then ran out to collect seaweed to drape over his brother's head. For the next three months Danny was known as the Sandman.

He hadn't been here since that last holiday. He knew his parents had tried to bring Danny for a holiday a couple of years later when Wilson was in college, but they came back after only two days.

But this place held good memories for Wilson. This was the obvious place to come when he had decided that he needed some time out. This was the last place of solace for a man who felt safe nowhere else.

Wilson smiled to himself as he drove into the city of Perth Amboy. The sign welcoming him was still the same as was the street he travelled down. It was exactly how he had wanted it to be. He pulled his Volvo into a vacant parking space just off the main street.

He felt safe.

* * *

"You were right. His apartment was a mess." Cuddy stood with her a hand on her hip. "What are you doing?"

"I left my keys at work. Lock picking is an art you know." House squinted as his tongue slipped out the side of his mouth. By sliding in a hairpin found in Cuddy's bag, he managed to unlock the door to his apartment.

"So that's how you break into patient's homes."

"Me? No. I learnt this off Foreman." He twirled the doorknob and let himself and Cuddy in. House stopped dead as soon as he entered the living room. "Someone's been here. There was an umbrella behind the door. It always falls over when I open the door." House span round and looked behind the door. "And...it's not there." House peered around the back of the set of draws next the door and under his piano before spotting the offending item on his couch. "I _never_ put it on my couch."

"Looks like Wilson was here then."

"Or I've been burgled." House raised an eyebrow.

"Is anything taken?" Cuddy made her way into the kitchen.

"No but that doesn't mean-"

"House!" Cuddy waved her hand from behind the wall, encouraging House to come into the kitchen.

"What is it?"

Cuddy waved a yellow piece of paper and slapped it down onto House's open palm. "It was stuck on your fridge."

House unfolded the paper and began to read the note. _I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being an ass. I know this is hurting you as much as it's hurting me. I don't feel safe any more. Not at home, not even in the hospital. So I've gone some place where I know I will be. I do want to talk about things but i can't. I don't know why. I do trust you, it's just hard. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm sorry. Wilson. _House handed the sheet back to Cuddy when also proceeded to read the note.

"He sounds confused."

"Really? You think?" House angrily tossed his cane onto the couch.

Cuddy put an arm on House's shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "We just have to think okay? Where does Wilson know is a safe place?"

Cuddy's patronising tone was beginning to grate on House, almost to point where it was making him angry. "I don't know! He's not here and he's not at his apartment so I don't know where else he would be."

Cuddy sighed. If House didn't know who else would know.

* * *

Wilson took a seat on a wooden bench overlooking the harbour. The weather had been kind as the afternoon sun bathed the harbour and the beach in a stream of warm light. It was surprisingly quiet, only a handful of fisherman scattered across the banks and some couples on the beach made up the public in Wilson's viewpoint. Exactly the type of place he needed.

He picked up a pebble off of the ground and began tossing it between his hands. Then he tossed it into the sea, hearing the gentle plop as the pebble hit the water. He closed his eyes, sat back and let the warm sun wash over his body. The serene calm that he felt here was a million miles away from the permanent feeling of consternation that hadbeen set in his mind for the past few weeks.

The stress had pushed him to take up his bad habit of biting the hell out of his fingernails again. He opened his hand and looked at the bitten and grubby fingernails and he felt shame.

Shame that he had been constantly pushing and pulling his best friend. Telling House that he wanted him there then telling him in no uncertain terms to leave only a few minutes later. He had rebutted House's offer of an ear to bend only then to turn round and accuse House of not listening and supporting him. He called House selfish and hypocrite but Wilson knew he was far worse a culprit than House ever was.

Wilson rubbed the sleep that had been gathering in the corner of his eye.

The fear of a mocking from House had been the thing that had been holding Wilson back from talking to House. He knew House cared. House wouldn't haven't bothered him that much about it if he didn't care. But the fear was so acute that it had stopped Wilson even trying to open up. The sheer embarrassment of it all was also to much to take. He was seeing things, hearing things, even _smelling_ things that weren't actually there. He was scared to sleep at night. Sometimes too apathertic in himself to even wash. How the hell would House react to that? Wilson had assumed that a bark of amusement would be the obvious reaction but he had never given House a chance. And for that he was shameful.

Small tears began trickling down the cheeks of Wilson as he looked out over the harbour. He knew he couldn't just sit here forever. He would have to go back to Princeton eventually to face everybody. He gently bowed his head and listened to the crunchy gravel that was sitting beneath his feet as he dug his shoes in.

"Why didn't you just talk to him and then all this wouldn't have happened." He muttered under his breath and stabbed his shoe into the ground. Wilson cursed. If he had of talked to House then maybe he would be sleeping and eating instead of sitting on a bench in a random part of New Jersey.

In one last determined roll of the dice, Wilson flipped out his cellphone and dialled the number he should have dialled a long time ago. After several rings there was a click of a phone being answered. "House? It's Wilson... I need to talk... I'm not in Princeton... I'm in Perth Amboy..."

* * *

_A/N As I said a little bit shorter but hope you enjoyed. Couple more to go I think._

_**So Why So Sad**- Manic Street Preachers __© 2001 Know Your Enemy  
_


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